Just A Little Bet
by Morning Dew
Summary: FINISHED! Mallory Carter was a shy young lady. After meeting her, Spot, Jack, and Race cannot help but make a bet to see who could be the first to seduce her innocence and win her over. But things will not work out exactly as planned.
1. The Bet

DISCLAIMER: These characters do NOT belong to me unfortunately. I tried to kidnap  
them from Disney and was unsuccessful. Go figure. However, Runner and Mallory are  
MINE, and so is Josephine! Muahahaha! So take that, Mickey!!  
  
  
  
A.N. Microsoft Word is giving me MUCHO problemos and so this story was typed up in  
Notepad! w00t w00t! So if there are any errors, please keep in mind that I do not  
have spellcheck and so.........well, yea. Sorry if this proves an inconvenience!  
I will try to fix Microsoft Word as soon as possible! Bear with me, though! : )  
Thanks, and enjoy the story!  
  
  
  
Just A Little Bet  
  
  
  
  
~*~*~ The first time he saw her, she appeared in the most dire conditions wearing   
  
a threadbare high-collar blouse and a raggedy skirt with several halfdollar-sized holes   
  
perforating its red fabric. Her hair was pulled back but velvety curls still dangled   
  
before her face, giving the girl a childish and otherwise cherubic look were there not   
  
streams of tears freefalling from her almond-shaped brown eyes. She had obviously   
  
been sobbing over some depressing matter for quite a time now, for her entire face   
  
took on a shade of crimson even utter embarassment had never known. Her shoulders   
  
and upper back heaved with each cry that escaped her lips, and her feet, clad in a   
  
most spectacular pair of lady's shoes that glistened in the moonlight and emitted   
  
its own rays of charm, stomped onto the cemented sidewalks of Manhattan with a vengeance.   
  
  
  
  
And yet, as Spot Conlon approached her out of curiosity and concern, he still found a   
  
celestial beauty about her he certainly could never be obliged to turn down.   
  
  
  
  
"Uh, excuse me miss. Is youse okay?"  
  
  
  
  
The girl spun around obviously surprised by the realization that she was not alone   
  
and covered her gaping mouth with a hand. "Please sir, I have no money upon me and I doubt   
  
kidnapping me would provide you with any monetary rewards. Please, please, just let me   
  
be. I am sure you can find some other-"  
  
  
  
  
Spot held up his hands with a laugh. "Listen, goil. I'se wasn't gunna steal ya.   
  
I saw ya cryin ya eyes out and I'se just wanted tah make shoah youse were alright 'fore   
  
I went me way."  
  
  
  
  
"Oh..." she paused a moment and looked down at the ugly clothes she wore, suddenly  
  
ashamed of her profile. "Well, I am quite fine, thank you. Everyone cries from time to   
  
time, right?"  
  
  
  
  
"Of coise, but I'se aint seen many people who's cries like youse were just cryin,   
  
wid ya heart all into it, ya know? Something really bad must've happened tah youse tah   
  
make ya so sad." He casually approached her, his hands buried into the pockets of his   
  
pants to protect them against the cool January winds.  
  
  
  
  
The girl held his questioning gaze for a moment, but then diverted her eyes to the  
  
ground. "It is my own business, sir, and I would appreciate if you would steer clear   
  
of it. Not to say I do not appreciate your kindness, it is simply that I am not keen   
  
with sharing the crude details of my life with mere strangers." She collected the   
  
ends of her skirt as to keep it from dragging along the sidewalks and started to   
  
walk away.  
  
  
  
  
"Wait, do youse have a place tah go?"  
  
  
  
  
"I certainly do!" She replied with the utmost offense. She was aware that she  
  
seemed nothing like the middle class she was a part of at the moment, but for him   
  
to assume her an orphan.........the conjecture was repulsive and made her fume!   
  
"Yes, I happen to reside in a fine house, thank you, so you will not be needing to   
  
seduce me into your shack for a night of vulgar pleasures!"  
  
  
  
  
Spot raised his eyebrows at this, but smirked nonetheless. "Damn," he whispered   
  
into her ear as he passed her by, "it would've been fun too."  
  
  
  
  
And before she could slap him for the remark, he was already traversing the dark  
  
streets that stretched for endless miles out of her sight, seemingly headed for a  
  
world she imagined was all too sinister for her inhabitance.   
  
  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
  
  
  
Spot pushed open the wooden doors of the church of Saint John the Divine   
  
with much hesitancy,leaning his cheek against the grand structure with a sigh, and  
  
it wasn't until he felt the cold barrel of a small gun held up to his head that  
  
he released all complacency and spun around wildly. At the sight of his younger  
  
cousin, Runner, he nearly yelled.  
  
  
  
  
"Jesus, Runner! Youse scared the livin' daylights outta me! Are ya crazy!? I swear,  
  
next time ya try some crap like that again, I'll rip ya hand right outta it's  
  
socket!"  
  
  
  
  
Runner doubled over and laughed hysterically at the Brooklyn leader's fright. "That  
  
was the greatest thing I'se ever seen!" He said between outburts of amusement.   
  
"Spot Conlon, fearless and respectable King of New Yawk, scared tah death when  
  
some kid pulled a gun on him. D'ya know the publicity that'd get?"  
  
  
  
  
"What the hell is youse doin' wid a gun in choich anyways?" Spot snatched the  
  
weapon from his relative and checked it for bullets; unsurprisingly, it was empty  
  
of such fatal things. "Ya know if ya muddah catches youse wid this thing she'd  
  
pass out cold!" They both snickered at the reality of it all and proceeded to walk  
  
farther into the church where a late night mass was being held to commemorate the  
  
life of a late missionary who had "gone to meet the Lord" just days passed.   
  
  
  
  
"What took ya so long anyhow?" Runner asked, taking his gun back from the older  
  
and stuffing it into one of the inner pockets of his checkered vests.   
  
  
  
  
Spot smirked. "I'se met a goil."  
  
  
  
  
Runner's emerald green eyes sparkled with mischief. "Really? So'd ya sleep wid  
  
her?"  
  
  
  
  
"I swear, if Aunt Patricia knew all the doity things that come outta ya damn mouth,  
  
she'd have a fit; she'd probablt blame me fer it all too!"  
  
  
  
  
"Spot, youse gotta stop worryin' about me muddah. So I occasionally delve into  
  
things I shouldn't, so what? I'se gotta have a life of me own, right? Being a  
  
friggin altar boy aint all what it's cut out tah be!"  
  
  
  
  
The Brooklyn leader laughed and smacked his cousin upside the head. "It's already  
  
startin'. Soon enough, youse is gunna be some drunk bum off the streets beggin'  
  
fer money so that youse can buy yaself a few smokes."  
  
  
  
  
"Shoah, whatever ya say, ya highness." Runner rolled his eyes and then followed  
  
Spot into an empty pew where they watched the service carry on until midnight  
  
when the mahogany casket was closed and a wreath of lavender flowers thrown upon  
  
its polished surface. Many tears were shed, and the churh echoed with the  
  
distressful cries of those who had known the deceased member, but the two boys  
  
only watched the procession with solemn eyes and what seemed to be an indifferent  
  
attitude.   
  
  
  
  
* * * * *   
  
  
  
  
Three days later, Spot walked into a miniature restaurant where he often stopped  
  
just before dawn for a slice of toast and hot chocolate to escape the early hustle  
  
of the working crowds of Brooklyn. Reclining into a booth by a window, he  
  
smiled at the owner of the restaurant, a kind old woman named Josephine who always  
  
wore her silver strands of hair in a tight bun, and waited for his usual breakfast.  
  
Known as a frequent customer, no waitress even had to take down his order. Toast  
  
and hot chocolate; that's all Spot Conlon ever wanted.   
  
  
  
  
As he took off his grey bowler hat to run his fingers through his dirty blonde   
  
hair, the bell above Josephine's entrance door tingled, signaling the arrival of  
  
yet another customer. He looked up at the sound and smirked at who he saw. The  
  
girl he had met yesterday evening on his way to the church service! This must have  
  
been her first time dining at this establishment for never had he seen her before  
  
and he had been coming to Josephine's since he was seven!  
  
  
  
  
He kept his eyes glued on an area outside the window. Curious about her personality,  
  
he wondered whether she would notice him, and whether she would approach him if she  
  
did. "Here ya go, Spot." He thanked the waitress who layed his breakfast plate   
  
before him and subtly began to consume the food, all the while perking his ears  
  
to the familiar soft sound of the girl that aroused his interest.  
  
  
  
  
"Uhm, can I please have a glass of orange juice and blueberry pancakes?"  
  
  
  
  
Spot had to stifle his laughs. Such a request! Blueberry pancakes? He assumed the  
  
girl had forgotten what area of Brooklyn she was in! Then he realized something.   
  
He had first seen her in Manhattan; whatever was she doing in Brooklyn?! He narrowed  
  
his green-blue eyes and stole a glance of her, making sure he had not made a mistake.  
  
But there she was, the same brown-haired, shy but polite, friendly young lady he  
  
had spoken to. Although, and this left him all the more confused, she was not  
  
dressed in the same tattered and dingy apparel she had carried about like an  
  
imposing vagabond last night but rather wore an elegant two-piece outfit that  
  
glorified her feminine figure and made her seem of some famed aristocratic name.   
  
With a long-sleeved green blouse marked with oriental velvet embroidery and a  
  
silky skirt that reached to her ankles just high enough to reveal petite black  
  
boots, it was a mystery she had not been stopped by some early rising goon as of  
  
yet who would be hungry for riches.   
  
  
  
  
"Oh, no blueberry pancakes? Ah, plain ones will do then. Thank you so very much for  
  
your time. Have a good day!" She gathered her packaged food into her arms and   
  
turned to walk out of the restaurant.   
  
  
  
  
Spot lowered his head and took a bite out of his buttered toast as he continued to  
  
look out the window, watching the girl out the corner of an eye. When she stopped  
  
all of a sudden, he acted as if he had not even noticed.   
  
  
  
  
"Uhm, excuse me sir, but you look familiar. Have our paths crossed sometime in the  
  
past?"  
  
  
  
  
The Brooklyn leader commended himself at having held the act for so long and raised  
  
his eyes to meet those of the girl's.   
  
  
  
  
"Oh yes! You were the kind young man who somewhat comforted me last night!" She   
  
placed the food she had ordered on his table and held out a hand to formerly   
  
introduce herself, but when Spot spat into the palm of his, she quickly retracted it  
  
and regarded him with utter bewilderment. "I beg your pardon, but why on earth  
  
would you regurgitate onto your hand just before offering it to me?!"  
  
  
  
  
Spot smirked at the over exagerration. "It's a newsie thing, ya know?"  
  
  
  
  
She shook her head.  
  
  
  
  
"D'ya know what a newsie is?"  
  
  
  
She was about to shake her head a second time when a thought dawned on her. "Oh,  
  
you mean the fellows who sell the daily editions of the newspaper! Why yes! Such  
  
dreadful noise they make! In the mornings, my father catches up on his sleep for  
  
he is so dreadfully ill these days, and as much as I try to make not even the  
  
minutest degree of noise, there comes the newspaper peddlers rounding the corner  
  
of our block, shouting at the top of their lungs the most gruesome headlines that  
  
ever I have heard!"  
  
  
  
  
"Yep," he replied with a proud grin. "That's me boys."  
  
  
  
  
"What do you mean 'your boys'?"  
  
  
  
  
"Well, ya see, all the newsies in New Yawk live in different boroughs, and in each  
  
borough, a leadah is in charge tah keep the peace among everyone and tah just defend  
  
all the boys and goils whenever they's in trouble. Anyways, I'se the leadah of  
  
Brooklyn's crew; been the leadah fer two years now." He beamed with pride at the  
  
recognition she was granting him and nodded his head. "But turnin' our conversation  
  
tah youse, ya mind tellin' me what youse is doin' in Brooklyn, and why ya were  
  
in Manhattan last night?"  
  
  
  
  
The girl smiled and took a seat in the booth across from him. "Well, if you want to  
  
know, my name is Mallory Alexandria Carter and I reside in Manhattan with my father  
  
alone. When you found me crying, I was mourning the passing of my mother for   
  
yesterday was the anniversary of her death. The pitiful rags I had been clad in  
  
were the clothes I was wearing the day a fire engulfed our house in monstrous  
  
flames. My mother had rushed inside the house to retrieve an object-to this day  
  
I do not know what it was-but just as she had re-entered, the roof had collapsed  
  
and she perished in the rubble."  
  
  
  
  
Spot's eyes grew serious and he sat up. "God, I'se sorry! That's terrible!"  
  
  
  
  
"Indeed, but do not take me as one of those pushover girls, the kind who are   
  
running from their past and seeking the stability of a seemingly sweet gentleman for  
  
both mental, physical, and financial support. Both my father and I are strong  
  
individuals and we get on just fine, but we still harbor the pain of mother's  
  
absence in our hearts." She tugged on one of the brown curls of her hair until it  
  
was straight and thought. "As for me being in Brooklyn, my father use to dine here  
  
all the time when he was my age and he requested that I purchase breakfast for him  
  
from this place as it has been decades since last he tasted its food. I, of course  
  
had to rely on my knowledge of the city's layout for I have never eaten here."  
  
  
  
  
"Well, ya father gots good taste, goil." He blew onto his hot chocolate and then  
  
took a large gulp of the warm liquid, sighing at its delicious taste. "The name's  
  
Spot Conlon, by the way, it's a pleasure tah meet youse." He ignored her bemused  
  
look at the announcement of his name and slid his hat back atop his head. "So ya  
  
need someone tah walk ya back tah Manhattan?"  
  
  
  
  
"No, I think I will be........."  
  
  
  
  
"Great," Spot went on. "I'se headin' over there anyways. Heya, maybe youse can meet  
  
some of me pals at the lodgin' house! I think ya'd like Jack Kelly, he swoons   
  
all the goils." Throwing her a wink, he arose to his feet, waved goobye to  
  
Josephine, and started out the door.   
  
  
  
  
  
Mallory arose as well. "Wait! I will not go to some dilapidated boarding house to   
  
become acquainted with........."  
  
  
  
  
"Don't forget ya food," the Brooklyn leader interrupted again. "And hurry 'fore it  
  
gets cold! C'mon goil!"  
  
  
  
  
* * * * *   
  
  
  
  
Spot draped an arm about Mallory's shoulder and smirked. "Ya know, Mal, I'se a bit  
  
disappointed that ya let me have me way. Youse said ya were strong, but that don't  
  
look like the case anymore."  
  
  
  
  
Mallory shoved the boy away with her free hand and groaned. "I do not remember  
  
giving you the authorization to shorten my name and for the last time, I never said  
  
I would enter that horrid residence your companions dwell within!"  
  
  
  
  
"Don't worry, youse won't have tah. Heah they's come now, on their way tah the  
  
distribution center tah get their papes." He grabbed her hand to keep her from   
  
walking off and pointed to one of the young men heading towards them. "See that kid  
  
there wid the red bandana? That's me pal, Jacky. The one behind him wid the cigar's  
  
Racetrack, named so 'cause it's his sellin' spot, more so 'cause he sucks at bringin'  
  
home some loot from them damn horses!" He made the last statement loud enough for  
  
the others to hear and Race flicked him off.  
  
  
  
  
"Heya Jack, heya Race." The three friends spitshook and caught up on the latest  
  
events that had occurred throughout the state as leaders and their right-hand men  
  
tended to do, oblivious to Mallory's presence. The girl set her packaged food upon  
  
the sidewalk, and then stood with crossed arms and pursed lips, waiting for  
  
someone to acknowledge her. Finally, Race waved towards her with his hand,  
  
causing Spot to look back and smile. "Oh yea! This heah is Mallory. She lives   
  
around these parts and was kind enough tah take a minute outta her precious   
  
time tah meet youse."  
  
  
  
  
Race held out his hand first and when the girl's smooth fingers grabbed his, he  
  
kissed the back of her palm quite cordially and smiled. "Pleasure."  
  
  
  
  
Mallory's cheeks slightly reddened. She tried to maintain her composure, but when  
  
Jack Kelly repeated the same gesture, she let out a giggle and quickly turned her  
  
face to speak to Spot. "It was nice speaking with you again, Spot. My father  
  
is waiting for me and I do not want to keep him any longer." She smiled at the  
  
other two and then hurried down the sidewalks with her food in hand.   
  
  
  
  
Jack whistled. "She's got a nice body."  
  
  
  
  
"And a cute face, but she looks a bit young fer our age. Where'd ya pick her up at,  
  
Conlon, the candy store?" Race took the cigar out of his mouth and exhaled a large  
  
cloud of smoke.   
  
  
  
  
Spot smile sarcastically. "No, I didn't pick her up at no candy store, ya idiot!  
  
I just thought, the younger they's is, the easier they's is." He smirked wickedly  
  
and stared at Mallory's backside until she disappeared around a corner.   
  
  
  
  
"Of coise," Race grumbled. "It's always politics wid youse. So ya tryin' tah beat  
  
yer own record or somethin'? If ya take Angela, Marie, and Susan into consideration,  
  
along wid at least twenty five others, you'd have tah have that goil in bed wid  
  
youse within the next hour tah do that!"   
  
  
  
  
Jack burst out laughing. "Ya both is lousy dogs. Seducin' goils just tah have 'em  
  
fer a night."  
  
  
  
  
Spot rolled his eyes. "Don't gimme any of that bullshit, Jacky. As soon as youse  
  
got Sarah tah give ya some, youse told her youse didn't love her anymore and  
  
dumped her."  
  
  
  
  
"Well, that was different," the Manhattan leader shrugged.   
  
  
  
  
"Uh-huh, shoah. So anyways, how 'bout we'se make this interestin'? Say we make it  
  
into a lil' bet!" Spot reached into his backpocket and pulled out a folded stack  
  
of dollar bills. "Gimme a week tah talk tah her, and I'll guarantee she'll be  
  
beggin' me fer it by the seventh day."  
  
  
  
  
Race rasied his eyebrows. "Beggin' youse fer it, huh? I'se gots five dollahs says  
  
she'll be the thoid goil tah reject youse."  
  
  
  
  
"Ah, come one Race, did ya really have tah bring up those two sluts?"  
  
  
  
  
"Heya, it was the foist time in history Spot Conlon was rejected and I'll revel in  
  
that fact fer the rest of me life." He laughed and puffed on his cigar. "So five  
  
dollahs?"  
  
  
  
  
Jack held out his hands. "Wait, wait. Let's make this a competition. What if all   
  
three of us was in on it, ya know? Like, what if all three of us was tryin' tah  
  
seduce her? The foist one tah do it gets ten dollahs from each of the losers!"  
  
  
  
  
Spot bit his bottom lip in thought. "I don't know. The idea is a real award-winnah  
  
but ten dollahs is alot fer some bet!"  
  
  
  
  
"AS if youse aint got ten bucks tah spare!" Race pulled the other two closer so that  
  
they were huddled in a tight circle and laughed. "This is great! She may get a bit  
  
suspicious but that'll just add tah the difficulty. So startin' tomorrow, it's one  
  
man for himself, and as soon as one of us gets the goil-and the goil would have tah  
  
acknowledge that she, well, gave herself-he gets twenty dollahs in total! Is we all  
  
in or what?"  
  
  
  
  
Jack nodded. "Count me in."  
  
  
  
  
Spot smirked "I'se in."  
  
  
  
  
"I'se in too," said Race anxiously.   
  
  
  
  
And so the bet between Jack Kelly, Racetrack Higgins, and Spot Conlon had been  
  
made. A bet over who could charm Mallory enough to make her give away a special  
  
gift she could never get back. A bet that would end in regrets and heartbreaks.   
  
  
  
* * * * *   
  
  
  
  
So what do you think? Is it worth continuing? Please submit a REVIEW!!! PLEASE??!!  
  
I love REVIEWS!!! Tell me what ya think!! Love it? Hate it? Not Sure? LoL! I wanna  
  
know! REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEW!!!!  
  
*Winks* Jack, Spot, and Race is blowing kisses for those goils who submit reviews! 


	2. Seemingly Bad Influences

DISCLAIMER: These characters do NOT belong to me unfortunately. I tried to kidnap  
them from Disney and was unsuccessful. Go figure. However, Runner and Mallory are  
MINE, and so is Josephine, Aunt Patricia, and Daisy! Muahahaha! So take that, Mickey!!  
  
  
  
A.N. WoWzeRZ! You goils really reviewed up a storm!! Heehee, I absolutely LOVE that  
spirit!! Keep it up, okay? Chocolate-covered JACK's, SPOT's, and RACE's for all!!!  
Shout-out time!  
  
  
  
*snuggles: WoW, I haven't heard from you in a loooong time!! Glad to see you still  
in the fanfic scene. Update your story soon! And thanks for reviewing!! And by the  
way, Geometry does suck! I hated that class! I think that is the worse math class  
I have ever had to sit through. My teacher was nice, fortunately, but honestly, the  
whole proofs thing should be slaughtered. LoL!  
  
  
*Ali: It's incredible that no matter how much of a jerk Spot Conlon can be potrayed as,  
we still find him incredibly sexy. : ) Thanks for the review, and I will continue!  
  
  
*Angel: Heya, how's that story of yours coming along? : ) Ah yes, Mallory is not  
the brightest candle on the cake when it comes to a newsie life, but bleh! LoL! Keep  
those reviews rolling in!  
  
  
*Irish/Kat: Aww, don't feel bad for ol' Mal. She has a good head on her shoulders.   
Hopefully she'll realize what Spot and Company are doing before it's too late. Ay me!  
I am the writer and I don't even know what's going to happen, lol! Thanks for reviewing!  
Enjoy the rest!  
  
  
*Babydoll: Hey, hey, hey. I'm glad you're enjoying the story so far! Thanks to your  
review, along with everbody else's, I will write write write! Have fun reading this  
next chapter. : )  
  
  
*Braces: Like to see more, ay? Well here's another chapter coming atchya! I hope  
you enjoy it just as much. Thanks for the reviews, and keep them rolling in! Heehee!  
  
  
*Candi Kane: Heya, I haven't heard from you in a while! Howz it rollin? : ) Hahaha.   
Well thanks so much for the review. Glad ya love it! Who will win, who will win?  
Ay, the muses won't let me reveal the grand secret. But stay tuned and you'll find  
out soon enough. Thanks again!  
  
  
*b133ding p03t: Yaaay! Another review from youse! *dances around the chair with Spot*   
Heehee. Thank ya, darlin' for ya support! Have fun reading chapter two!!!  
  
  
*jo: Thanks for reviewing! Don't worry about Mallory. : ) She won't get hurt, or  
at least TOO hurt. *shrugs* I have no idea what's going to happen in the following  
chapters, lol. But stay tuned!  
  
  
  
  
  
Just A Little Bet  
  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~ Mallory grabbed another dity dish from the sink of hot water and began   
  
scrubbing its glass form softly, occasionally looking down to her feet where,   
  
cuddled in a tight warm ball, lay her buff-colored cocker spaniel lazily basking   
  
in the rays of the rising sun as the beams entered through a nearby open window.   
  
  
  
  
"Daisy, you are such a beautiful dog," Mallory said in a sing-song voice, as she set   
  
the washed dish aside to clean yet another.   
  
  
  
  
"And you are such a beautiful young woman."  
  
  
  
  
Mallory smiled at the voice of her father and turned her head to regard him. "Father,   
  
you are up early. How did you sleep?"  
  
  
  
  
"It was not one of my most peaceful sleeps," Mr. Carter replied, "but I suppose I   
  
enjoyed it nonetheless. My medication is steadily depleting, though, and I will soon  
  
have to visit Doctor Reynald for another refill. Darling, I have not received a  
  
paycheck from the factory yet. I will have to take money from the bank account I had   
  
set aside for your education in order to pay for the pills."  
  
  
  
  
"Oh." The girl's face obviously darkened by the news and she turned her head to face  
  
the dishes in the sink to hide her disappointment. Every two weeks, her father had  
  
taken a certain amount of money out of his paycheck that would eventually be used by  
  
Mallory to afford enrollment into an institution of higher education. But every now  
  
and then, Mr. Carter was obliged to use the money for matters ranging from groceries to  
  
the house's mortgage, as he was currently not employed but rather on a sickness leave.  
  
The textile factory where he worked had agreed to provide for him in his time of need,  
  
but apparently they had not held up their end of the deal and now the Carters were  
  
terribly suffering.   
  
  
  
  
"Mallory, I deeply regret doing this to you, but I am merely trying to make ends meet.  
  
I know how much studying for a future career means to you, but right now we are in no  
  
position to be saving for...."  
  
  
  
  
"Daddy!" The girl turned around and smiled, changing her tone. "You need not explain  
  
to me. It is perfectly fine. Of course I know of what situation we are in, and I   
  
apologize that I cannot be of more help around here."  
  
  
  
  
Mr. Carter looked at her sadly. "Oh, dearest, why are you sorry? If I wanted you to   
  
bring our household some extra money, I would request of you to acquire a job! For  
  
goodness sake, we are not impoverished! Everyone goes through financial distress at   
  
times. Just promise me you will remain patient and understanding with me."  
  
  
  
  
"Of course I will," Mallory laughed. She shut the running water, turned around, and then   
  
stepped forward to embrace her father.   
  
  
  
  
"And promise me that you will one day marry a man who will be able to support you and  
  
any family you might raise comfortably without any troubles."  
  
  
  
  
Mallory rolled her eyes. "Daddy, I am only fifteen years of age! I have yet to start  
  
dating!"  
  
  
  
  
"You are never to young to start upholding values," Mr. Carter said as he held her   
  
close. "Make sure you only involve yourself with someone who loves you dearly and who  
  
will treat you like the angel you are."  
  
  
  
  
"Very well then," answered she. "I promise."  
  
  
  
  
* * * * *   
  
  
  
  
"So youse, Jack, and Race is all involved in this?!" Runner marveled at the concept   
  
as he sat upon the desk in his room within the walls of the church where he spent   
  
most of his days and laughed. "What a bet!" Taking off the jacket of his three piece  
  
suit, he set the piece of clothing onto a chair and took out a cigarette along with a  
  
match. He struck the match against the hard surface of a wall and set the newborn  
  
flame into use.  
  
  
  
  
Spot sighed. "I thought youse were gunna quit smokin'? Where d'ya get all this crap  
  
anyways?! Ya board in a damn choich!"  
  
  
  
  
"I'se got me sources," the younger replied.   
  
  
  
  
But Spot was not satisfied with the answer. Runner was quite the mystery. He attended  
  
an elite private school and lodged in a monastery with both his parents, yet   
  
mirrored a ruffian image and an acidic attitude that even the toughest in Brooklyn  
  
could not compete with, save for Spot Conlon himself, of course.   
  
  
  
  
Just then, someone entered the room without knocking. It was a woman dressed in nun  
  
attire and when her eyes fell upon Runner exhaling smoke carelessly , she shrieked.  
  
"Lucas!!! What in heavens are you doing?!"  
  
  
  
  
Runner's eyes widened and he quickly extinguished the cigarette, crushing its form  
  
into the same wall that had enlivened the match. "Uh, mother, I can explain," he said,  
  
doing away with his rough New York accent.  
  
  
  
  
"I certainly hope so!" The woman crossed her arms and gave her son a scolding glare.  
  
  
  
  
"Well, mother....." he looked down in thought and then smiled. "Ah! Spot suggested  
  
that I do it, mother! He claimed it would not harm me, and since I admire him so, as he  
  
is my elder, I took his word for it." Spot opened his mouth to argue against the lie,   
  
but his aunt cut him off.   
  
  
  
  
"Andrew!! How dare you allow your bad influence to wash upon your cousin!"  
  
  
  
  
"Aunt Patricia, I'se didn't..."  
  
  
  
  
"I don't want to hear it, young man. You apologize to Lucas this instant for  
  
leading him astray from his righteousness!"  
  
  
  
  
Spot gave her an incredous look. He could not believe the woman was falling for   
  
Runner's pitiful innocent act! "But, I never told 'im tah..."  
  
  
  
  
"I will not hear another word," the nun almost yelled. "Apologize!"  
  
  
  
  
Spot clenched his teeth and shot Runner a menacing gaze. "Sorry," he muttered.   
  
  
  
  
Patricia smiled warmly at the apology and nodded. "Thank you, dear. Now, I will not  
  
tolerate any of this nonsense in this church! I will not allow you both to throw  
  
your lives away! I love the both of you too dearly to allow that! Please, Andrew, do  
  
not bring the rubbish from a newsie life into the house of God ever again. And please  
  
do not even think about tempting your cousin with a slipshod life!" She paused to   
  
allow the words to settle in and then addressed her son. "Lucas, father expects you in  
  
the fellowship hall at noon for your social creed examinations. Good luck, dear!" She  
  
turned and left the room, gently closing the door behind her.   
  
  
  
  
As soon as Spot could no longer hear the woman's shoes plod down the narrow hallways  
  
of the church, he jumped from his seat, grabbed Runner by the front of his shirt, and  
  
threw him into a chair, holding him down with firm hands. "Ya ever pull shit like that  
  
again, and I'll tell ya muddah everything, ya heah me? Everything about the gun youse  
  
keep in under ya bed, the liquor in one of ya drawers, and every damn thing youse keep  
  
from her. Don't think I'se won't, Runnah! Cause ya playin' too many games now and it's  
  
pissing me off!"  
  
  
  
  
Runner shrugged him away. "As if she would believe youse." He casually rose to his feet,  
  
collected his jacket, and slid each arm through its sleeves. "So how do I'se looks? Me   
  
father insisted that I take this damn exam today tah prove tah the counsel of clergy's  
  
that I'se capable of preachin' the woid."  
  
  
  
  
"God help us all," Spot threw at him sarcastically. "The day youse become a preacher,  
  
I'll be conviced there's such thing as an anti-christ."  
  
  
  
  
"Ouch," Runner smirked. "That shoah hoit. Listen, it aint like I wanna do it. But  
  
seeing how it runs in the family supposedly, I was forced into it. So, wish me luck,  
  
huh?"  
  
  
  
  
The Brooklyn leader looked disgusted. "Go tah hell, Runnah."  
  
  
  
  
* * * * *   
  
  
  
  
Race sighed at his lack of success in today's selling rendezvous and layed his stack  
  
of papers upon the sidewalk to sit upon and indulge in an early morning smoke. He had  
  
not gone to the tracks today, for he very much wanted to make the first move on  
  
Mallory and knew quite well that would not happen if he was not in reasonable distance  
  
from her home. Then again, he had not the slightest idea where the girl resided; not  
  
even what neighborhood! But remembering the direction she had walked when leaving  
  
Jack, Spot, and himself to tend to her father, he assumed she would have to pass the  
  
lodging house sometime during the day for errands or such.  
  
  
  
  
And how he was right! Across from him on the other side of the street suddenly appeared   
  
Mallory, strolling about in seemingly bright moods behind a well-groomed purebred puppy.  
  
  
  
  
"Heya Mallory!" Race waved at the girl and closed the distance between them in a quick  
  
run, abandoning his papers where he had earlier set them down. "Where ya headed?"  
  
  
  
  
Mallory smiled at the remembrance of how kindly Race had treated her yesterday. "Oh,  
  
no where in particular. I am only taking Daisy for her morning trot. She is rather  
  
young and needs excercise to burn that energy puppies are known for."  
  
  
  
  
Race laughed and leaned over to scratch Daisy's fur behind the ears. The puppy wagged  
  
its tail in delight and stepped closer for a better massage. "Cute dog."  
  
  
  
  
"Do you have one?"  
  
  
  
  
"Nah," the boy answered, still playing with the puppy. "We'se aint allowed tah have  
  
pets in the lodgin' house, in case one of the kids is allergic or sumthin. I remember  
  
when I foist came heah, I had a terrier mix, but Klopmann wouldn't let me keep 'im  
  
and I had tah toin him tah the streets."   
  
  
  
  
Mallory frowned. "Aww, that is awful! I am sure he found a better place, though. Do   
  
not be saddened."  
  
  
  
  
Race patted Daisy on the back and then rose to his full height. After a moment, a grin  
  
crept to his lips. "Ya know, youse gots pretty eyes."  
  
  
  
  
"Really? I always believed they were too big for my liking."  
  
  
  
  
"Nah, they's just right." Mallory smiled up at him and then turned to continue her  
  
walk with Race at her side. "So anyways, youse ever been tah the tracks? Ya know,  
  
where they's compete horses against eachother?"  
  
  
  
  
The girl shook her head, but was still curious. "When do they compete?"  
  
  
  
  
"Alls the time! As a mattah of fact, I'se can take ya tah one of their races latah  
  
today if you'd like. It'd be alotta fun. Heck, we'se could even place a bet if ya  
  
want. I'll even let youse pick the horse." He waited for a response, the tension  
  
making him suddenly nervous.   
  
  
  
  
"Well, Daisy needs her walk," she started off. "And I could not imagine intermingling  
  
with all the unusual and ill-mannered people that will undoubtedly be taking part in  
  
the track's events today. I think I will have to deny your request, but I do thank you  
  
for suggesting my presence into your plans."  
  
  
  
  
Race bit his lip from saying something that would let her know he was fully angered  
  
by the rejection. He had not expected her to pass the oppurtunity! He could have  
  
sworn she was an easy-going girl, but apparently, he could not be any more wrong. "Ah,  
  
well that's fine. 'Sides, I'se gots papes tah sell." In one last effort to leave an  
  
affect on her, he leaned in and kissed her on the cheek, and then with a word of  
  
farewell, retreated back to the area where his fifty newspapers awaited him.   
  
  
  
  
* * * * *   
  
  
  
  
So how's it coming along? Is there anything you would like to see in here? C'mon,  
goils, I'se flexible! Any suggestions? Tell me what ya think so far, please!?!?  
Submit those REVIEWS! ReViEWs!!! Ya know what they say about authors who recieve  
REVIEWS; they're more likely to update quicker. *wink, wink* So let's put our  
reviewing caps on and send in some comments!!! w00t w00t! Youse can do it! Love  
ya all! 


	3. A Humbling Session

DISCLAIMER: These characters do NOT belong to me unfortunately. I tried to kidnap  
them from Disney and was unsuccessful. Go figure. However, Runner and Mallory are  
MINE, and so is Josephine, Aunt Patricia, and Daisy! Muahahaha! So take that, Mickey!!  
  
A.N. YaaaY!!! *swims in the pool of reviews* You goils is the GreATesT! I love  
you all, I feel so appreciated, lol! But seriously, I am so glad you all are  
interested in this story and are enjoying it. Thanks so much for the REVIEWS!!!  
WARNING!!! this is a SHORT CHAPTER, lol!!! Sorry! There was originally going to   
be a Race/Mallory scene, but I had the most extreme case of Writer's Block and had  
no idea how to go about describing everything. Ay, forgive me!! : (  
  
  
  
*b133ding p03t: Pish posh! Every writer has their own style. I didn't always write  
like this. It took a lot of time and practice. I'm sure that in time, both you and I,  
along with hundreds of other authors, will be the almighty Queens of the writing  
world!!! Muahaha! Thanks for the review, hope ya like this chappie! : )  
  
  
*SportyChik425: Heya Teacher! LoL, just kidding! I say that a lot too. Well, my dear,  
you and I think alike. This chapter is in part dedicated to Jack's attempts at wooing  
Mallory, lol. Awww, ya like Runner's character? YaaY! Heehee, he happens to be my  
favorite actually. Glad you're enjoying it so far! Thanks for reviewing!  
  
  
*braces: Eeeewww! Girls melting in the newsies' arms, yuck yuck! LoL! It's fun sometimes  
but since nowadays everyone seems to dread Mary-Sue's, I made Mallory a toughie. You  
don't like Runner? LoL! Don't worry, it's just the old case of sibling rivalry. : )  
Thank ya for those reviews! Have fun reading chapter three!  
  
  
*skittles: Ooo, original plots kick booty! w00t w00t! Thanks for the review! Yea,   
the newsies section is getting old, except for a few spicy stories. : ( Too many  
sappy romances, lol. Anywho, enjoy this next chapter and thanks for the support!  
  
  
*snuggles: This Spot-look-alike of yours is intriguing me!!! What's his name?! How  
old is he?! Please spill the details!! Hahaha, church revivals are great places to  
meet Hot, Good guys...unless of course you happen to meet someone like Runner, lol.  
Heehee, staring contest, ay? Go snuggles! Get that Spotty boy and take him home!  
Take him home and...read the bible together? *snickers* Keep me up to date with him!  
LoL, thanks for the reviews anyways. Here's another chappie!  
  
  
*Shortie: Youse a doll! No, I don't want reviews, I just ramble on at the end of each  
chapter for the fun of it, LoL! : ) Ahh, you love Runner?!!? *high five, sister!* He  
is my absolute favorite character in all my fanfics, lol! Although, in this story,  
he's a bit more naughty than usual. Heehee, gotta love the kid. Yes, the toughness  
is a Conlon thing. Ah, Mallory's speech, lol. Sorry about that; no hitting her on the  
head! *snickers* I prefer the Newsie lingo, though. Hahaha. It's cuter. And as for   
Spot's family, well you've raised an excellent question, my dear! I'll sort out that   
underlying story later on. Ah, and don't think Race will give up so easily! Heehee, he's  
a tough cookie as well. Anyhow, thanks for the reviews, and keep 'em coming!  
  
  
  
  
  
Just A Little Bet  
  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~ "Such a breathtaking work of art, no? I feel as if the artist is creating  
  
a trap in which he's hoping my feelings will be caught and intertwined with the lives  
  
of those who've suffered the drudgery of war!"  
  
  
  
  
Mallory arched an eyebrow. All she saw in the gold-framed oil painting was a series of  
  
random blotches in a variety of colors, but she supposed the young teacher had to say  
  
something depthful in order to catch her students' attention. The girl smiled to herself  
  
and continued walking through the art exhibits a local gallery had put on for a   
  
three-day event honoring those who had left quite an impact on the timeline of history.  
  
She had read about the memorial in yesterday's paper, and always awed by the arts, had  
  
decided to spend her afternoon lost in the world of passions and desires frozen for  
  
all of time onto the simple exterior of a canvas.   
  
  
  
  
As she entered an area of the gallery dedicated to the history of New Mexico, the  
  
figure of a tall young man caught her attention. Almost instantly, she recognized  
  
him as one of the newsboys Spot had introduced her to and she was almost excited by  
  
the opportunity to further talk to him. She walked to his side and in the utmost  
  
casuality said, "Why Jack! I did not expect to see you here!"  
  
  
  
  
Jack's head swifty turned, for the Manhattan newsie had first thought that one from  
  
his own borough had caught their leader admiring works of art, but when he found himself  
  
looking into Mallory's warm eyes, he loosened up and smiled. "Heya! Actually, I'se just  
  
came tah see the pictures of New Mexico. It's a nice place, huh?"  
  
  
  
  
"Extremely beautiful," she replied, as she looked at the row of paintings hung onto the  
  
wall before them. A particular one in black and white stood out among the rest. It was  
  
a drawing of a young rancher holding a rifle at his side. "Who is that?"  
  
  
  
  
"Oh, that's Billy the Kid. Youse ever hoid of 'im?" The girl shook her head, so he  
  
continued. "He was one of the most famous killahs in New Mexico; killed twenty-one  
  
supposedly, one for every year of 'is life. Went around stealin' cattle and shootin'   
  
deputies. Crazy enough, most of the people was in love wid the Kid. They's always   
  
welcomed him into town with outstretched arms."  
  
  
  
  
Mallory shook her head. "People never cease to amaze me."  
  
  
  
  
"Ah, the state's full of freeborns," Jack laughed. "That's mostly why I'se always   
  
wanted tah go tah Santa Fe. It's peacefull and the lands stretch all the way tah the  
  
horizon no mattah where youse is." He sighed and stared at the picture of Billy the  
  
Kid, jealous of the adventure the deceased youth had lived out in his life.   
  
  
  
  
"You speak with much elegance, Jack! You practically give me a historical summary  
  
of an ordinary New Mexican cowhand, and then you go on about the wonders of that  
  
western acreage. You should have been born into a higher class! You have much to give  
  
to the world!"  
  
  
  
  
Jack narrowed his eyes at the comment. He did not neccessarily appreciate people thinking  
  
as highly as Mallory did. "I guess it aint mattah what class I'se born into," he said,  
  
trying to control his offenses. "Life's basically the same for all of us. We'se each  
  
given problems and circumstances; it's what we'se do about it that counts. Shoah, it'd  
  
be nice tah party wid the muckety-mucks a few days from time tah time, but when I'se  
  
look around me, I'm thankful tah be where I is. There's people even less fortunate than  
  
me, Mallory. Me class is the least of me worries."  
  
  
  
  
An uncomfortable silence fell upon the two and the girl shifted her weight from one  
  
foot to the other as she thought of how to respond to that. "Forgive me," she began.  
  
"I suppose I always believed that one's class determined not only wealth but also   
  
willpower and intelligence. But you have proven me wrong, Jack, and I thank you for the  
  
lesson." She laughed lightly and looked away. "We all need to be humbled once in a   
  
while."  
  
  
  
  
"Aww, don't worry about it! Even we newsies gots our prideful days. Of coise, for  
  
Spot Conlon, it's more like prideful years...but that's another story." They enjoyed  
  
a nice laugh and then Jack turned to face her. "So, goil, how's life treatin' ya?"  
  
  
  
  
"Pretty well, I suppose. I have my ups, I have my downs. My father went to see his  
  
doctor this morning and I can only pray that his sickness has not worsened. He has  
  
bronchitis, mind you, and is awfully short of breath when his lungs begin working  
  
against him. The medicine he uses aids him somewhat, but it is not at all as powerful  
  
as the more expensive drugs. Unfortunately, we can not afford anything of the sort.  
  
We can barely pay for the generic brands! He is endlessly telling me he has everything  
  
under control, but I worry about him. On the bright side, I have recently befriended  
  
three amicable young men..." She looked up at Jack and smiled.   
  
  
  
  
"And which of the three is ya favorite so far?" Jack asked her slyly.   
  
  
  
  
She playfully hit his arm and imitated someone deep in thought. "You raise an excellent  
  
question, Jack, but I have not a worthy answer to offer it. You see, these three boys  
  
are unique each in their own way and I could not possibly decide between them!"  
  
  
  
  
'That might be a problem,' Jack thought to himself with a knowing grin. 'But how can  
  
I set meself apart from those other bums?' Then it hit him. The girl was obviously close  
  
with her father...and her father was currently ill...what if Jack promised the man's  
  
health? "Mallory, about ya dad, what if I'se told me boys back at the lodgin' house  
  
about the situation and we'se raised enough money tah help youse out?"  
  
  
  
  
Mallory immediately refused. "No, no, no! I do not want to rob your friends of their  
  
money! They earned that money in hard labor and the last thing I want is for them to  
  
have to give it away to a pair of middle-class folk who do not know how to budget!"  
  
  
  
  
"Don't take it so hard on yaself, it's no big deal! Even aristocrats find themselves  
  
at the end of their ropes one day!" He rested his hands on her shoulders and looked  
  
at her hard and long. "Please, Mallory. Let us help youse."  
  
  
  
  
"But it is not fair...."  
  
  
  
  
Jack moved his hands to the girl's cheeks and held her face tightly. "And it aint fair  
  
for ya dad tah be sufferin' without that medicine when youse gots a good friend who'd  
  
be willin' tah raise some money."  
  
  
  
  
She sighed, slowly relenting. She could not believe he was suggesting such a thing, and  
  
felt ashamed at having to agree with the idea. After all, wasn't she the one who was  
  
supposed to be donating to charities for boys and girls like the newsies? Wasn't she the   
  
one who was supposed to be helping them in their time of need? "I am so embarassed by it   
  
all. I could not possibly....."  
  
  
  
  
Jack put a finger to her lips and grinned. "That's what friends is for, Mallory." And  
  
having finally silenced her on the matter, they were able to enjoy walking through  
  
the gallery together and sharing their feelings on art.  
  
  
  
  
* * * * *   
  
  
  
  
  
That night, the Brooklyn lodging house was hosting a late night poker game where card  
  
players from all over New York gathered to compete with their fellow newsie and, if luck  
  
was shining on them, bring home a larger amount of cash than that with which they had   
  
come. Spot, Jack, and Race sat at a secluded table in the far back, watching a heated  
  
match between the best player from Queens and his new rival, a Staten Island prodigy.   
  
Between the competitors was a mound of cash that probably summed up to over fifteen  
  
dollars and the boys crowded around the table could not take their eyes off that   
  
grand prize money.  
  
  
  
  
"Who d'ya think's gunna win?" Race asked through a cloud of smoke.  
  
  
  
  
Spot shook his head. "It's hard tah tell. Flame's a mastah wid cards, but that Staten  
  
kid looks like he's about tah pull the biggest surprise."   
  
  
  
  
A few moments later, the cards had been revealed and Spot's predictions fulfilled.   
  
Jack commended him. "Ya always know who's gunna take home the cash, eh Conlon?"  
  
  
  
  
"Actually, ya boy Specs was standin' behind the kid," the Brooklyn leader confessed.  
  
"And I could see a royal flush in the reflection of his lens. Unfortunately, Flame  
  
aint got enough sense tah make use of 'is surroundings." The three of them laughed and  
  
scanned the lodging house for anything else to catch their interest.  
  
  
  
  
Race was the first to speak again. "So anyways, I'se took Mallory out for dinnah  
  
tonight. Ya know what she said about it? That it was 'romantic'. How d'ya like that,  
  
huh? It looks like this lil' bet is favorin' me, fellahs."  
  
  
  
  
"Well, I'se was in the museum wid her earlier and she said some shit about me sounding  
  
intelligent or whatever. When ya think about it, Race, most goils go for the smart ones  
  
these days."  
  
  
  
  
"Bull! What if she's one of those traditional types that want tah marry some damn knight  
  
in shinin' armor who'll sweep 'em off their feet?"  
  
  
  
  
Jack rolled his eyes and then noticed that Spot had not said a single thing about his  
  
attempts with Mallory. "Heya, Spot, where have youse gotten wid the goil?"  
  
  
  
  
The Brooklyn leader smirked. "Well, kids, I'se don't want ya'll to lose so early in the  
  
game so I'se figured I'd wait a few days and then enter the picture, ya know?"  
  
  
  
  
"Oh, how modest," Race said with an exaggerated and sarcastic smile.  
  
  
  
  
"Besides, I'se had other crap tah deal wid, like that idiotic bastard also known as me  
  
cousin. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he was a potential candidate for some  
  
insane asylum! The kid is the devil incarnate, I swear!"  
  
  
  
  
Jack laughed. "How's he doing? I'se haven't seen Runner in months!"  
  
  
  
  
"Be glad ya haven't!" said Spot.   
  
  
  
  
"There's one in every family," Race offered. "But don't let family business get in the  
  
way of our lil' bet, huh?"  
  
  
  
  
Spot ran his fingers through his hair and the corners of his mouth upturned into a  
  
mischevious grin. "Youse aint gotta worry about that one bit."  
  
  
  
  
* * * * *   
  
  
  
  
Ah, the end of yet another chapter! You know what that means, my dear readers. *Game  
show music blares though the air* It's that time again! w00t w00t! Here's your host...  
ALEEEEEEEEEX TREBEK!!! *audience anxiously awaits Alex to appear....* Alright, so  
he wasn't able to make it to this edition, but I know that won't stop you from playing,  
right? *silence* RiGHT!?? REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!!!! I love REVIEWS! Me love  
REVIEWS!!! My muses are now taking suggestions if you have any!!! Want to see more of  
something?, tell 'em! Want to see less of something?, tell 'em!!! DATES with Spot, Jack,  
Race, or heck, even Runner for those who dare, are now being given away at an  
expeditious rate! Reserve your date NOW! WOOOOOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Love ya all! 


	4. Snap

DISCLAIMER: These characters do NOT belong to me unfortunately. I tried to kidnap  
them from Disney and was unsuccessful. Go figure. However, Runner and Mallory are  
MINE, and so is Josephine, Aunt Patricia, and Daisy! Muahahaha! So take that, Mickey!!  
  
A.N.   
  
~SORRY!!! I know this update took forever but I've been out of it, lately. My dad  
had surgery the other day and it's just been like 'bleh!' LoL. ALso, I've been  
dealing with the guy I have a crush on. *_* :slips into a daydream: Yea, well,  
anywayz, thanks for all those reviews, goils! Ya make me day!  
  
~ATTENTION!!! Because of a majority rule, Mallory's way of speaking will in fact  
be lessened by a certain degree, lol. Yay for Contractions! w00t w00t! The chapter   
alotta youse has been waitin' for! Spot's try at Mallory!! yAAAy!! Hahaha. Also, for   
my Runner fans out there, the kid is in this chapter too! : ) Enjoy everybody!   
  
  
*Angel: w00t w00t! I got your story, and started reading it!! YaaaY I wuv it! Spot is  
the man! Heehee. And I love him when he's jealous. *sigh* I'll correct it over the  
weekend a.s.a.p! Thanks for the review! Enjoy this chapter!  
  
  
*bl33ding p03t: My friend once taught me the "l337" language, but I never got a hold  
of it, lol. Yaaay, dances for chapters! I think Spot may be amused. LoL! Thanks, thanks  
thanks for the reviews!!! Have fun with Chapter 4!!  
  
  
*Drama-Queen: Another review, another chapter indeed. Sorry it took so long, though.  
:sighs: Forgive me? : ) Well, thanks for reviewing. I'm glad you like the story so  
far!  
  
  
*Snuggles: Oooo, get that Brian kid!!! He doesn't like that girl! BLEH!!! Do you  
talk to him often, or just give him looks? *giggles* Ah, high school crushes are  
rather enthralling, no? I happen to have a crush on a guy who reminds me of Spot too.  
Not so much in his appearance, but more so in his attitude. He walks around so suave  
and he just has this monotonous air about him that makes me melt on the spot! LoL,   
no pun intended. Anyways, his name is Andre and I'm meeting him on Tuesday because  
my friend told him that I like him and now he wants to meet me. *trembles in fear*  
Ahhhh, I'm so nervous!!! Heya, you should give Brian a Valentine's Card *nudge, nudge*  
I think that would be cute. Then me and you can sit together and talk about our  
Spot-look-alike boyfriends! *giggles* Good luck!  
  
  
*asp: Nifty plot, ay? I like that word. I use it a lot. : ) Yea, you're not the only  
one who had a problem with Mallory's speech so I did decided to 'tone it down' as you  
suggested. And woohoo, I even worked it into the storyline somehow! LoL! Thanks for  
the review and I hope you enjoy this next chapter!  
  
  
*Shortie: A dying review button... *considers it* Not bad, I think I may take use of  
that idea at the end of this chapter, lol! Ah, Runner is the MaN! LoL, I fall for the  
badboys too. Heehee, they's so cute! *pinches Runner's cheeks as he glares at her*  
Back to soaking Mallory, I see. Don't worry, Spot takes care of that speech problem  
for us all. : ) In a more civil manner, mind you. Hahaha. Bronchitis sucks nickels,  
and yet, I've already given the illness to like, two other characters in separate  
stories I had written, *shrugs* I think my grandma has asthma or something so it kinda  
gives me an idea about the whole short of breath thing. *Spot urges Morning Dew to  
hurry up already so that he can get to Mallory* Sheesh, no patience at all! AH, Spot  
wanted me to deliver you a message. "I'll never get over meself, I'se just such a gift  
tah mankind." *shakes head* Well, what did you expect, he's a Conlon! Anywho, onto  
the next chapter, my dear! EnJoY!  
  
  
*SportyChik425: Spot cheating, hmm? *gives Spot suspicious look* Ya just never know   
with these Conlons, especially when you have a kid like Runner in the family. : )  
Hahaha, I wuv Jack. *applauds Jack for 'keeping it cool'* Yup, ya gotta love guys  
who can give a heart-jerking speech like that and put people in their places! w00t  
w00t! Well, thanks for the reviews!!! Have fun with Chapter 4!!  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Just A Little Bet  
  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~ Runner swung open the doors of the Brooklyn lodging house as if he had been  
  
owning the place since its establishment and sauntered into the dimly lit main room with  
  
a proud grin and air that seemed to enliven the area. However, there were no newsies  
  
present to greet his arrival, for obviously the boys were busy selling their papers  
  
across the borough, trying to earn enough cents to buy them a decent meal and to pay  
  
for their housing. The boy jogged up the broken-down staircases that led to a second  
  
story, each step nearly shredded down into splinters so that one would think the  
  
structure might collapse any minute. Once on stable ground, Runner continued his walk  
  
to Spot's room, which was straight down the hall, shut off in privacy by means of a  
  
thick, mahogany door that offset the ugly shades of brown of the lodging house's   
  
interior.   
  
  
  
  
For a moment, as Runner's fingers grasped the rusty knob of Spot's door, he thought to  
  
knock, to at least have the audacity to respect his older cousin's personal space, but  
  
the idea was instantly pushed aside and he turned the knob quickly, exposing himself  
  
in the doorway.   
  
  
  
  
The first thing that reached his ears was a girl's scream, but undaunted by its volume  
  
he only looked on and started laughing at the predicament he had fallen into. Then of  
  
course there was a moment in which Spot's threatening glare sent a chill through him,  
  
yet even so the fear was dispelled and he could not help but find the amusement in it  
  
all. The girl, a tall blonde with her shirt halfway buttoned and her stockings pulled  
  
down to her feet from under a skirt, gathered her bearings and stormed out the room  
  
nearly in tears, too embarassed to even do so much as look Runner's way.   
  
  
  
  
Spot on the other hand, remained on the edge of his bed, still fully dressed and in  
  
a disposition so suave, Runner knew he was in for it if he did not have an explanation.  
  
"Runnah, d'ya know how long I'se been tryin' tah get that goil tah even step foot in  
  
me room?"  
  
  
  
  
"You ask me as if I care." Runner looked away, surprised by his bold comment. He knew  
  
he was skating on thin ice whenever he messed with Spot's temper, but it was so much  
  
fun to challenge him! "Besides, I come on important matter. I passed my examinations!"  
  
  
  
  
"Youse tell me as if I'se care," Spot threw back. He rested his back against the   
  
headboard of his bunk and stretched his legs out onto the mattress. "And what's wid the  
  
richy accent? It's annoyin' me."  
  
  
  
  
Runner walked the length of the room, enjoying its simplicity. Not the glorious   
  
intimidation of a gothic cathedral, just a basic living that suited him all the more.   
  
Studying the objects on a desk situated against the room's only window, he picked up  
  
Spot's slingshot and pulled back its shooting band, triggering memories of when he  
  
had been a Brooklyn newsie. Now that he thought of it, he had no idea what had happened  
  
to the slingshot Spot had made him. "Ah, sorry. I'se forgots I'se wasn't associatin'  
  
wid the thoroughbreds."  
  
  
  
  
"What's that suppose tah mean?"  
  
  
  
  
"I'se dunno," Runner laughed. "I hoid some hoity toity say it tah a bum on the street  
  
and I thought it was funny. 'Specially when the bum gave the bastard a black eye." He  
  
grinned at the humor and in his face, Spot saw all the malice the boy was  
  
capable of, a true Brooklynite. He remembered how girls use to say that he and Runner  
  
looked identical, though he never knew a more falsely statement.   
  
  
  
  
Runner's features were sharper. Spot often thought of him as a woodland sprite, those  
  
mischievous little creatures that roamed throughout the forests playing pranks on  
  
the generations and laughing to their heart's content. The younger of the cousins also  
  
had lighter blonde hair of a rougher texture, its strands only falling to a length just  
  
above his ears, and whereas Spot's eyes were a green-blue color that often adopted  
  
a grey shade when he was in his worse moods, Runner's were always a bright sea green,  
  
shining like a pair of emeralds left in the desert sands. But their most distinctive  
  
difference was naturally their heights, Spot being two and a half inches taller.   
  
  
  
  
Spot sighed. "Ya came all the way from Manhattan and interrupted me session wid that  
  
goil just tah tell me ya passed some damn examination?"  
  
  
  
  
"I thought ya'd like tah know!" Runner turned to face him, putting the slingshot down,  
  
and gave him an indignant look. "Youse is the foist person I told!"  
  
  
  
  
"I find that kinda hard tah believe considerin' ya parents were probably just outside  
  
the testin' room, ready tah heah the news."  
  
  
  
  
Runner's face seemed to darken for the slightest moment, but just as quickly it returned  
  
to its playful expressions. "No, they had a meeting to attend, naturally. Father   
  
believes it of the utmost importance to please those who ordained him, even if it does  
  
mean missing out on his family's life half the time."   
  
  
  
  
Spot noticed the change of accent again, and this time he even picked up on the spark of  
  
anger that had accompanied each syllable. "Listen, I'se gots a goil tah meet in   
  
Manhattan in a bit. Wanna come along?"  
  
  
  
  
"Nah, I should be gettin' back tah me place." As he began walking out the room, he  
  
smirked. "And about that goil youse were just wid, however long it took ya tah finally  
  
convince her, I'se coulda done it in less time."  
  
  
  
  
"Oh really?" Spot raised an eyebrow at this. "Ya know, I'se don't remember the last   
  
time youse even had a goil, Runnah."  
  
  
  
  
The younger shrugged. "I'se live in a damn monastery; I can't exactly be bringin'  
  
goils in there. 'Sides, I get kinda supersticious of all the marble figures in that  
  
choich. I mean, would youse really make out wid a goil when ya had a statue of Jesus  
  
starin' youse down?"  
  
  
  
  
Spot burst out laughing and had to admit he probably would not.  
  
  
  
  
* * * * *   
  
  
  
  
As Spot leaned against the firm iron beam of a street lightpole, he thought about how  
  
he could possibly differentiate himself from Jack and Race. He was not the biggest  
  
fan of art and so would definitely not be taking Mallory out to a museum of some  
  
sort to gaze at paintings created by men ages dead, and he never really was in the   
  
mood to sit down at a fancy restaurant with a five-man orchestra at his tableside  
  
playing the finest selections from classical music; he did not have Race's patience.  
  
Thinking of Race, he still had no clue as to how the Italian had convinced Mallory  
  
to join him for an elegant dinner. Apparently, she had been quite hungry at the time  
  
he had asked and so accepted his invitation. It figured.  
  
  
  
  
He brought a small slip of paper from out of his pocket and stared down at the address  
  
written upon it. 245 Morningside. Thanks to one of his birds, the Brooklyn spies ever  
  
present throughout the City, he had been able to obtain the exact location of Mallory's  
  
residence. And a residence it was! A Victorian townhouse painted in shades of creme  
  
and cafe with a finely kept garden in the small, gated front porch it was alloted and  
  
a fuzzy doormat at the steps decorated with small daisies and the word 'Welcome'. Spot  
  
smirked at the details and proceeded up the steps until he was eye level with the   
  
brass numbers that marked the house and raised his hand to knock.   
  
  
  
  
"Coming!" he heard a voice from inside reply, and a few moments later, the door was  
  
slightly opened with two chestnut brown eyes peeking out through the crack. "Spot,   
  
whatever are you doing here?!"  
  
  
  
  
Spot pushed the door further ajar and let himself in, smiling down at the girl in a   
  
way that put her immediately on guard. She stepped back and bid him entrance, though  
  
had she the strength and patience she would have fought with him unrelentingly until  
  
he eventually left her to peace, and showed him to the sitting room where he plopped  
  
down onto a velvety couch and sighed. "So how's is ya day so far?"  
  
  
  
  
"It was going well, thank you," she said with a smile. "But then you had to show up."  
  
She looked back playfully, assuring him it was only a joke. "How were you aware of  
  
my whereabouts anyways? I do not remember telling you..."  
  
  
  
  
"I'se guessed?" He took notice of a framed picture on the table beside him of a younger  
  
Mallory sitting on a woman's lap. Behind them was a man with his hands resting atop  
  
the woman's shoulder, and all three individuals smiled as radiantly as one could   
  
imagine. Spot looked up at her. "Is these ya parents?"  
  
  
  
  
"Yes, that was taken when I was eleven years old. I remember that day so vividly, its  
  
memories are still living on in my heart. My mother had been curling my hair as I  
  
stood before a mirror ironing the minutest wrinkle out of my dress with my hands. My  
  
father walked in then with a bouquet of roses and he gave it to her with a kiss...they  
  
were so in love." She sighed and her eyes glazed over as she reminisced. "It was so  
  
wondrous, like a magical fairy tale being unwound and coming to life. I miss her so..."  
  
  
  
  
Spot laughed. "Ya know, youse should loosen up some, Mal. Ya always seem kinda uptight.  
  
I mean, shoah youse gots a lot tah feel depressed about wid yer muddah being gone and  
  
all, but youse should still find time tah enjoy life. Ya cooped up in this house alls  
  
the time, unless one of me boys drags ya out fer dinner or whatever."  
  
  
  
  
"Well, maybe I prefer the interior of my home to any hideous assemblage of bricks and  
  
wood you might take me into!" she replied offensively.  
  
  
  
  
"This is exactly what I'se talkin' about! Even the way ya talks needs some woik. Ya  
  
sound like some richy from high society who screams at the sight of some newsie walkin'  
  
by as if the kid's a cockroach. I'se tellin' ya, Mal, youse need tah lighten up."  
  
  
  
  
The girl stood before him with clenched fists and a stern look, not bothering to hide  
  
the anger he was causing her. First he barged into her house without even waiting for  
  
her approval, then he began insulting her personality and dialect! It was unfathomable!  
  
She honestly felt like beating him over the head with the broomstick she kept in the  
  
kitchen closet. Such a nuisance he was being! "For the last time, my name is Mallory,  
  
not Mal! Now will you please do me the favor of showing yourself out the door?"  
  
  
  
  
"AH, come on," Spot said softly and almost pleadingly. "I'se just came by fer a visit.  
  
Ya haven't even shown me ya room...although, we'se can get better acquainted there latah  
  
tonight." He winked at her and showed off his most devious smirk.  
  
  
  
  
Mallory gasped at the comment and shoved him away. "Out, out, out!!!" She grabbed  
  
him by the back of his suspenders and pulled him with all her force, escorting him  
  
through the halls and ultimately out the door. Spot nearly stumbled from having to  
  
walk backwards, but once he was on the doorstep of the house he leapt forward in one  
  
final attempt to get on the girl's good side, only to have the door slammed in his   
  
face. "Mallory!" His knocks turned into agitated pounds and he was even contemplating  
  
picking the lock.  
  
  
  
  
"Go away!"  
  
  
  
  
"Will youse let me in, goil? I'se just wanna talk tah youse! I'se sorry of I offended  
  
ya, I was just tellin' ya how I felt. I mean, ya might be more likeable if youse got  
  
rid of ya aristocratic crap."  
  
  
  
  
She opened the door. "Spot Conlon, do you not speak the language I am currently using?  
  
I said, Go Away!" She stood there, waiting for him to enact her wishes, but he only  
  
emitted a light laugh and leaned against the outside wall of the house.   
  
  
  
  
"Youse shoah is stubborn, Mal." He ran his fingers through his hair and stared at a  
  
nun passing by on the sidewalks with a class of preparatory students in toll, all only  
  
five or six years in age. "Heya!" He turned to her excitedly then and smiled. "Me  
  
cousin's choich is puttin' on a play this weekend. Why don't ya come see it wid me?"  
  
  
  
  
"I rather not," said the girl as she began closing the door.   
  
  
  
  
Spot blocked it with his foot and opened it even wider. "C'mon, in honor of ya attempt  
  
at lightening up. It'd be fun, and I'se aint gunna bite youse or anything! C'mon!"  
  
  
  
  
Mallory groaned and looked back inside her house in search of Daisy. If Spot could not  
  
be chased away by her demands, perhaps a dog's bite would do the trick. "I can not  
  
afford to be spending my leisure with you and your companions any longer. My father's  
  
health is worsening and I would very much appreciate it if you bothered me no longer.  
  
I must care for him, not run off with some newsboy to catch the latest play!"  
  
  
  
  
"Fair enough," the Brooklyn leader replied. "I'll woik out a deal wid youse. Go tah  
  
this play wid me just this once and I'll never bother youse again. If ya don't like it,  
  
then youse can go back tah ya little inside-goil life, but if ya do, I'd be more than  
  
happy tah take youse out more often if ya father'd let ya."  
  
  
  
  
"If I agree, will you please go away?"  
  
  
  
  
Spot smirked. "But Mal, we'se didn't even go tah ya room tah play yet!" He was answered  
  
with a door slammed into his face and reprimanded himself on having taken his shoe out   
  
of the doorway. He hurried to the kitchen window on his left and called out through the   
  
glass pane, "I'll pick youse up Saturday at five!"   
  
  
  
  
* * * * *   
  
  
  
  
Kid Blink and Mush were sitting on a table laughing at Race's best impressions of  
  
Brooklyn's feared leader when a girl with jet black hair and piercing grey eyes suddenly  
  
entered the Manhattan lodging house, soaking wet and obviously ticked off by that fact.  
  
She twirled her hair between her hands and squeezed out every last drop of water from  
  
the silky strands and then set to unpacking her canvas bag in search of a wooly jacket  
  
which she pulled out with remarkable haste. She shivered within her drenched clothing  
  
and hugged her arms around her thin body, only then noticing that at least fifteen  
  
teenage boys were watching her every move.  
  
  
  
  
Her first instinct was to stare back at them with wide, frightened eyes. Eyes that  
  
would clearly show how lost and alone she was in this cruel city, but she cast aside the  
  
demeanor she had once upheld and instead raised her head high and proud. "Who's the  
  
leadah 'round heah?"  
  
  
  
  
Blink approached her with a playful smile. "Hey sweety, how 'bout we'se help ya outta  
  
those wet clothes?"  
  
  
  
  
She gnarled her face at him. "And in return for ya kindness, I'll be shoah tah help  
  
the doctor when he tries tah get me foot outta ya ass."   
  
  
  
  
The lodging house erupted in laughter and Blink's face reddened from the bold comeback.  
  
He hated the challenging girls; they reminded him of the dollfaces from Brooklyn who  
  
were anything but dolls.   
  
  
  
  
The girl walked to the center of the room. "Is I'se gunna be told where ya leadah is,   
  
or am I gunna have tah beat the answer outta someone?!" She looked into each one's face  
  
and narrowed her eyes at them, annoyed by their silence. "Well??"  
  
  
  
  
A boy with a cigar neared her and with a reassuring smile, said something in a language  
  
she could not understand, but which she assumed to be Italian. She furrowed her forehead  
  
in confusion and shook her head at the alien words. "Jesus Christ! Will someone just  
  
tell me wheah the hell is ya leadah! I'se cold, I'se hungry, I'se tired, I'se pissed   
  
as all hell and the last thing I want is tah have tah go back out in that damn  
  
rain and find me another place tah sleep!"  
  
  
  
  
The front doors through which she had just entered only moments before creaked open  
  
and in walked a tall boy wearing a cowboy hat to fend off the ammuntion of raindrops  
  
that were thundering about the streets. The boy slid the hat back and stopped short  
  
when he saw his newsies gathered in a tight throng, awaiting an order of some sort to  
  
come from his lips. "Uh...what the hell is goin' on heah..." He did not even finish  
  
the sentence when he saw the girl, standing in the middle of the newsies with arms  
  
crossed in an impatient and irritable air. "Uh, is youse new heah?"  
  
  
  
  
"No, I'se been livin' heah fer three months already," the girl replied sarcastically.  
  
"Of coise I'se new!! Youse aint ever seen me heah before! Jesus, is ya all this stupid?  
  
Listen, can I just get a bunk fer one friggin' night? I'se about tah pass out from  
  
sleep deprivation!"  
  
  
  
  
"Me name's Jack, I'se in charge 'round heah. Yea, youse can get yaself a lil' room  
  
but let's get a few things straight. Foist off, youse'll adress me wid respect from  
  
now on since I'se Manhattan's leadah and from the looks of it, ya'll probably woik as  
  
a newsie under me charge. Secondly, if ya keep up the lil' attitude, don't think I'se  
  
won't throw ya back out in the rain. Understand?"  
  
  
  
  
The girl glared at him but nodded nonetheless.  
  
  
  
  
"Ya got a name?"  
  
  
  
  
She uncrossed her arms and rolled her eyes. "It's Snap." And after she was told where  
  
the girls' bunkroom was and had ascended the staircase swinging her hips all the way up,  
  
Jack shook his head with a laugh and aside to Race, said, "Snap. Go figure."  
  
  
  
  
* * * * *   
  
  
  
  
WoWzerZ! It's one o' clock in the morning over here! Ahhh, sleep deprivation!!! So  
how is the story coming along so far?! Is everyone still interested? Hmmm? : )  
Youse is all the best, ya know that right? So can i get some REVIEWS?!?!!?  
REEEEEEEEEEVIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEW!!!!!!!!!! PLEASE?!?!?!?! LOL!!!! No slacking!!!  
Click the button, click the button, click the button!!! You want to click the button,  
you want to submit a REVIEW, you want to make MOrning Dew's day. Nod and agree.  
C'mon kiddies, let's REVIEW AWAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Love ya all~ 


	5. Relearning English

DISCLAIMER: These characters do NOT belong to me unfortunately. I tried to kidnap  
them from Disney and was unsuccessful. Go figure. However, Runner and Mallory are  
MINE, and so is Josephine, Aunt Patricia, and Daisy! Muahahaha! So take that, Mickey!!  
  
  
  
A.N. WowZeRz!! Lots of reviews again!! Thank you SOOO much!!! You have no idea how  
completely happy I am when I receive feedback. It's like, writing is my life, and  
here are people submitting reviews telling me how much they love this story!! It's  
one of the greatest feelings in da woild! *dances around with a slightly scared  
Runner and Spot* GuESS WhAt!!! THe guy I like wants to MEET ME!!! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!  
And so my best friend is going to introduce us to each other This Tuesday!!!! *runs  
away screaming* I'm sooooo nervous. But enough about me, the Show must go ON!!!  
  
  
  
*Angel: Ah, Spot wanting to get acquainted in Mallory's room. A classic, my dear, a  
classic. I think I might have gotten that from one of my best guy friends, Marcus,   
who's quite the mischievous seducer. lol! Thanks for the reviews! I'm still editing  
your story. Don't think I forgot! It's on my "to-do" list; as a matter of fact, it's  
even above doing my homework. Imagine that, lol.   
  
  
*bl33ding p03t: Want to know who Snap is, ay? *looks at Spot* "Should we tell her?"  
Spot shakes his head. Sorry, kiddo, I guess you're going to have to read on. : )  
Thanks thanks thanks for those reviews! Enjoy this next chapter...ah, in which Snap's  
identity is revealed.  
  
  
*Drama-Queen: No, Mallory can't kill our dear King of New York, though I agree, I would  
have done just that...hmmm, or maybe just hit him over the head with that cane of his.  
LoL! : ) Ooo, just like Snap, huh? You must be a tough cookie! Well then, I hope you  
have fun reading Chapter 5 because Snap and Spot actually meet. Dun dun dun!!  
  
  
*Snuggles: *Nods at Runner* Yes, kid, Snuggles does in fact get the award for longest  
review for Chapter 4! *the newsies applaud as Snuggles is handed a golden newspaper  
by Jack, and gets a kiss from the Manhattan leader* : ) Muahahaha. I got your email  
and wrote back instantly! Hehehe. i'm tellin' ya, Snugs, we'se gots good things  
written in our futures. Me and Andre, youse and Brian. It's going to woik out just  
poifectly. Heya! Does Brian have a locker?!!? If he does, you should write him a  
secret admirer's note and put it in his locker!!! And if you have a locker, tell him  
in the note to write back. Mind you, I did this in ninth grade and the guy actually  
wrote back! I was sooooooo THRILLED! Then, when Brian writes back, you can set up  
a meeting place with him, ya know? Oh oh oh, that would be GREAT!! You definitely   
should try it, goily! Dirty blondes will not be taking our men, Snugs!! LoL!! You WILL  
make a move on Brian, you WILL make a move on Brian *tries to hypnotize her* Heehee!  
Welperz, onto chapter the next!  
  
  
*asp: Yes, I figured I would work the little change in speech into the plot somehow.   
She'll be sounding different in this chapter, lol. I read over the last chapters and  
I suppose it was a bit off-setting. : ) Thanks for telling me! And thanks for the  
reviews! DUDE, keep them rolling in!!!  
  
  
*Shortie: OMG, that happened to me too! I was doing this project for Biology and it  
had taken me sooooo FRIGGIN long!!!! And then out of nowhere, the THING ERASES!!! I was  
like WTF!?!? And then out of nowhere, lol, I just started crying. I'm a tad bit too  
sensitive, mind you, and it was just so GRRRRR!!! And THEN, as if that wasn't bad enough,  
lol, I got that flame for this story. At first I thought it was kinda funny, being  
my first flame and all after having published like, 12 stories, but then it kinda got  
to me and I wanted to team up with Runner and shoot a few things. : ) But then I  
got your review and it really cheered me up. *Runner presents Shortie with the award  
for best review that Cheers Morning Dew up* "Geez, Runner, that's a long title for  
a review, don't ya think?" "Ah, shaddup!" Heehee, gotta love the kid. "Heya Runner,  
ya hear that? Shortie thinks youse gots a sensitive side." *all the newsies burst  
out laughing and Runner blushes* Hahaha!!! Yes, I'll admit, Mallory's speech scared  
me at times. : ) Good thing ya told me about it or it would've probably went on  
for ages and you would've ended committing suicide! ANd Runner certainly wouldn't  
want that happening...heehee. Thanks so much for the happy reviews! They's make me   
day!! Have fun with Chapter 5!!  
  
  
*SportyChik425: "Spot, you wouldn't kill Runner for barging in on you and that blonde,  
would ya?" *Spot glares at her* Ooo, I guess so. Ya must understand, I honestly had  
to restrain the two. : ) Runner agrees with you on Spot being annoying though, lol!  
What's Mallory to do when Spot won't do so much as step foot out of her house!?  
*shrugs* Ah, Snap. If you wanna see a big effect, read this chapter!! Muahaha. Hopefully,  
you read all the chapters...lol, but anywho. Thanks for the reviews!!! Read on and  
Enjoy!  
  
  
*Trek: Oooo, lookie, a new reviewer!! Yaaay! I wuv new reviewers! They're not daunted  
by the number of chapters that are already posted. *Spot reminds MOrning Dew there's  
only 4 chapters posted* Ah, leave it to a Conlon to ruin the glory of it all. LoL!  
Thanks so much for the review! I'm glad youse is enjoying it so far!! I hope you  
like this next chapter just as much!!  
  
  
*gdfg: Ahhh, thanks so much!! You are the author of MY FIRST FLAME!!! How does it feel,  
my dear? Hopefully, vivid details won't drive you to such extremes as shooting yourself,  
and if so, am I really the one that needs help? I doubt you would even be reading  
this, since my writing is obviously too "horrible" to be read, but if by some chance  
you are, I just want you to know that you're entitled to your opinion. If you thought  
this was crap, heya, it's a free country, right? Cheesy, dumb, retarded, and cliche?  
Well, need I remind you that this plot hasn't even turned up in the newsie section?  
So in that matter, darling, it's anything but cliche. Hmmm, I don't intend on seeking  
help because you were not flattered by my writing. I will, however suggest that you  
learn to control your anger, but that of course only ties in with the "entitled to  
your own opinion". Anywho, the feedback was appreciated in any case. God Bless!  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Just A Little Bet  
  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~ "Race...do you think I talk too formally?" Mallory was never one to dwell on  
  
the insults others had given her throughout life, but Spot's suggestion of her  
  
'lightening up' would not stop pestering at her every thoughts. Did she really sound  
  
like an arrogant brat? Did she really build herself up to be a careless aristocrat?  
  
  
  
  
Race was so taken aback by the question that the cigar currently in his mouth nearly  
  
fell to the ground. "Uh...er, ya want me tah answer that?"  
  
  
  
  
Mallory sighed. "You just did. It is beyond my understanding, though! How do I go about   
  
talking normally?" They turned a street corner and continued their stroll through  
  
Manhattan on their way to the Sheepshead. Suddenly realizing that she was indeed  
  
bored out of her wits whenever she remained within her house for hours at a time, she  
  
had left to the Manhattan lodging house to find Jack or Race, in hopes that either one  
  
would be willing to take her under their wing. Fortunately, she had not even approached  
  
three blocks distance from the lodging house when Race had caught sight of her. After  
  
the Italian bought his daily papers, he invited Mallory for a day at the tracks, and   
  
this time she willingly accepted the idea.   
  
  
  
  
"Well, it's just gotta come naturally. It's best when youse obsoive other people when  
  
they's talk. And spendin' a week wid the newsies will get ya talkin' just as rough as  
  
any kid from Harlem. It all comes in time, Mallory. Don't stress out about it, though."  
  
  
  
  
"Are those the tracks?" She pointed to an establishment just before them, the vociferous  
  
noice from inside escalating to an ear-piercing volume. She could already see queues of  
  
men lining up with eager and impatient faces as they scanned through papers to see which  
  
horse they would place their bets on that day. Some were yelling with the front desk men  
  
over how they had been cheated by choosing a particular racer, others were collecting  
  
their winnings with foolish grins. Vendors zigzagged in and out the crowds, selling  
  
everything from cotton candy to drinks to stuffed horses for the younger ones in the  
  
audience. Mallory was instantly intriqued by the environment. It was almost like a  
  
carnival! "You go here everday, Race? It is extraordinary! I would love to be a part  
  
of this for the rest of my life!"  
  
  
  
  
Race pulled the girl aside and smiled hesitantly, as he noticed unusual glances taken  
  
upon the girl. "Heya, this is exactly what youse DON'T say if ya speak normally. The  
  
tracks is the tracks, there aint nuthin' 'extraordinary' about it!" He laughed and gave  
  
her a quick hug. "All in time, hun. All in time."  
  
  
  
  
He led her to the spectating area where hordes of people from all ages were already  
  
seated, consuming refreshments and chatting over any topic of conversation that would  
  
reach their minds. Mallory took a seat beside a married couple and waited for Race to  
  
rest himself as well, but he only remained standing. "What are you doing? You are not  
  
going to stand up the entire time, are you?"  
  
  
  
  
"I'se gots to sell me papes, goil. Youse can stay heah and I'll be back in thoity   
  
minutes or so tah check up on ya."  
  
  
  
  
Mallory looked horrified. "You simply can't, Race! It is my first experience as a  
  
spectator at the Sheepshead Races and you are simply going to walk out of it like that?"  
  
  
  
  
"If it means that much tah youse," he said with groan, "I'll stay wid ya fer a bit."  
  
He set his papers on the floor and squeezed in between Mallory and a rather large man  
  
on his left who held three hot dogs on his lap and a bag of popcorn in one hand. Race  
  
arched his eyebrows at this, for it seemed as if snacks were the last thing the plumpy  
  
gentleman needed, but he said nothing of it. "So youse enjoyin' yaself?"  
  
  
  
  
"Absolutely!" And then she did something out of the norm. She relaxed her head onto  
  
Race's shoulder and giggled. "This has been an exciting day, I'll admit. Thank you so  
  
much for letting me take part in it."  
  
  
  
  
Race was speechless. Had Mallory just made a move? All right, so it wasn't something  
  
to brag about to Spot and Jack, barely considered body contact. But the point was,  
  
SHE had made the first move. He thought his heart skipped a beat and he wished he had  
  
one of his papers in his hand to fan himself.   
  
  
  
  
After the races, Mallory was practically skipping along like a thrilled child who had  
  
just seen a circus show or a delightful flick. She wore a smile that beamed with  
  
happiness and she couldn't even stop talking for more than five seconds! Race laughed  
  
at the change in personality. There was still a bit of alteration that needed to occur,  
  
but at least the girl was not as refusing as she had first been. At least she was  
  
willing to try new things.   
  
  
  
  
"What does this way lead to?" She hurried off ahead of him, sneaking into a backroom  
  
of the area that Race had never noticed before. Looking back to make sure they would  
  
not get in trouble with any managers, he slipped into the room as well and adjusted  
  
his eyes to the sudden dimness.   
  
  
  
  
"Mallory, where'd ya go?"  
  
  
  
  
"I'm right here! Look! These are the stables, Race! Look at all the horses!" She  
  
squeeled with delight when a nearby horse nudged her with its muzzle and neighed.   
  
"Oh, how adorable! I wish my father and I had enough land to own a horse!"  
  
  
  
  
"I don't think we'se suppose tah be heah. Let's head on back, okay?"  
  
  
  
  
"Oh, you don't need to leave!" Both Race and Mallory spun around at the sound of the   
  
voice, but eased a great measure when they saw it was only a girl around her sixteenth   
  
year with a pail of sugar cubes and a rake. She smiled at them warmly and set the  
  
objects she was holding down. "Sorry if I scared you. Not many people come down here  
  
so I didn't really know what to say. Are you a newsie?" She motioned to the papers under  
  
Race's arms and he nodded wordlessly. "Really? That's awesome!"  
  
  
  
  
Mallory turned to face a horse neighing loudly behind her and patted its cheekbone. "Do  
  
you work here all the time with the horses?"  
  
  
  
  
"Sure do," the girl replied. "By the way, the name's Becca. Pleasure to meet you folks."  
  
She held out her hand to each one and they shook as new acquaintances.   
  
  
  
  
Race could not take his eyes off her. Even though she was dressed in worn-out overalls  
  
with her reddish hair braided into pigtails and had smudges of dirt smearing across  
  
her arms and forehed, he thought her the most beautiful creature he had ever spoken to.  
  
In her slight country accent, she still had class. In her average brown eyes, she still  
  
held a spark.   
  
  
  
  
Becca noticed his staring and smiled. "You okay, newsie?"  
  
  
  
  
"Uh-huh...I mean, oh, what?" Both girls laughed and Race flushed with embarassment.   
  
"Sorry," he said. "I was just...uh...I was just...on me way! C'mon Mallory, we'se gots  
  
these papes of mines tah sell! Papes don't sell themselves." He took Becca's hand  
  
again and paused before saying anything. "It was a pleasure, miss." And for some  
  
reason, he did not kiss her hand as he had done to so many other girls, for he believed  
  
she deserved more than that-he just didn't know what yet.  
  
  
  
  
Mallory led the way out of the stables and waved back at the girl. "Goodbye, Becca. It  
  
was nice meeting you! I hope we meet on more occassions in the future!" She marched  
  
on out in high spirits, but when she noticed Race constantly looking back from where  
  
they had come, she wondered if something was bothering him.   
  
  
  
  
* * * * *   
  
  
  
  
Jack opened the front door to the Manhattan lodging house and dodged just in time to  
  
save his head from being smashed by the shooter that had been launched from Spot's  
  
prized slingshot. "Spot, what the hell is ya problem?! Ya tryin' tah kill ya allies now?!"  
  
  
  
  
Spot smirked and entered into the building after spit shaking with his best friend.  
  
"I'se just thought I'd make an entrance, eh?" He stuck the weapon into one of his  
  
back pants pockets and yawned from the lack of amusement the action had had. "Life  
  
gets more borin' every day. Hell, even Runnah can't find ways tah brighten things up  
  
a bit, and ya know that kid always has some crap up his sleeves."  
  
  
  
  
"If ya lookin' fer fun, youse should make a date wid one of the newest in me brood."   
  
Jack showed the Brooklyn leader upstairs where the bunkrooms were and stopped just   
  
outside the doorway to the girls' room. "Ya see the goil in that corner all by herself?   
  
That's the one. Says they's call 'er Snap. I call 'er a pain in the ass!"  
  
  
  
  
"Mind if I'se talk tah her?"  
  
  
  
  
Jack held up his hands. "By all means, please do. Though I gotta warn ya, I'se don't  
  
think this one's gunna be as easy as youse thinkin'. She's hiding somethin', Spot.   
  
Personally, I'se don't even trust her!"  
  
  
  
  
"It aint abuot trust," Spot remarked in a low voice. "It's all about gettin' them in  
  
bed and then lettin' them return tah their miserable lives. If she's a loner, I aint  
  
offerin' her a friendship. If she's gots problems, I aint no shrink. If she's had a   
  
bad past, I'se aint got the power tah erase her memory. So why even bother, huh?"  
  
  
  
  
"Damn, youse get woise by the day! No wonder youse aint never gone steady."  
  
  
  
  
Spot laughed. "Actually, that's a direct quote from Runnah himself. Imagine that. The  
  
kid aint never slept wid a goil and there he is givin' me speeches on how ya oughta  
  
treat 'em. He's got real potential, Jack. The kid's gunna be a prodigy." The Brooklyn  
  
leader sauntered into the room then and nodded at all the attention the girls were  
  
giving him. Dreamy gazes, hyperventilation attacks, shrieks of adoration, and a few  
  
bold attempts of trying to start conversations. Spot looked beyond them all, which made  
  
him all the more wanted-except of course by those girls who pledged hatred towards the  
  
boy, and made his way to where Snap sat on her bunk, cross legged and glaring at him.  
  
  
  
  
"Heya," he said casually.  
  
  
  
  
Snap rolled her eyes. "What the hell d'ya want?"  
  
  
  
  
"Temper, temper, dollface. I'se just wanted tah intoduce meself." He stepped closer to  
  
her with a proud grin. "I is, afterall, the one and only Spot Conlon."  
  
  
  
  
"Never hoid of ya," the girl replied with a shrug. But sensing where this conversation  
  
was headed, she rose onto her knees, still atop the bed, so that she and Spot were   
  
eye level. She brought her hands to his chest and smiled sweetly. "But in any  
  
case, what would youse like me tah call ya? Spot? Master Conlon? Oh, Sexy One?"  
  
  
  
  
Spot brought his face closer to hers and whispered onto her lips. "Baby, youse can  
  
call me whatever ya want."  
  
  
  
  
"Excellent," she whispered back. And then out of nowhere she shoved him away and sat  
  
back on her heels. "In that case, I'll call youse the stupidest bastard I'se ever  
  
suffered through a floitin' session with! Damn! Ya really need tah woik on ya act if  
  
youse think youse can win someone over that easily!"  
  
  
  
  
Those girls who hated Spot with a passion began to snicker at the comment and joined  
  
in the jeer with pleasure. In opposition, the Brooklyn leader's admirers gasped at the  
  
words and glared at Snaps for being so cruel to the man they loved! But Spot was not  
  
so easily overcome. He only cast an indifferent look at Snaps and then turned away to  
  
leave the scene of a battle he had just lost.  
  
  
  
  
* * * * *   
  
  
  
  
Mallory sat on her couch with Daisy laying at her feet and recited lessons aloud to  
  
help her correct her grammar. "So instead of saying 'It is of the utmost pleasure to  
  
find myself in your company, sir'...I can say...'It was nice meeting you!' "  
  
  
  
  
"And instead of saying 'Oh what a pleasurable time I had with you!'...I can say..."I  
  
had a really fun time!"   
  
  
  
  
She jumped to her feet and seemed to grow more enthralled. "And whenever I can, I must  
  
put contractions into use. Ay, mother always abhorred those things! She claimed that  
  
words were treasures that should not be compacted into some rubbish of a dialect! But  
  
they would make my speech easier to understand I suppose. Wouldn't you agree, Daisy?"  
  
  
  
  
The puppy grunted with half-opened eyes.  
  
  
  
  
Mallory laughed. "Oh look! I have resulted to speaking with animals! I'll get Spot  
  
Conlon one of these days!"  
  
  
  
  
"Mallory, dear, whom are you speaking with?"  
  
  
  
  
"Daddy!" The girl rushed up to the man to give him a hug and then pulled back with a  
  
smile. "Merely practicing my English aloud."  
  
  
  
  
Mr. Carter looked at her, clearly confused. "What's wrong with your English? You speak  
  
it quite wonderfully!"  
  
  
  
  
"Times are changing, and we should change with them. I no longer feel comfortable   
  
speaking like a Medieval Times noble! We're living in the twentieth century! I must   
  
grow accustomed to the ways of speech around me."  
  
  
  
  
"You never cease to amaze me, dear." The man was about to say something but was cut  
  
short by an abrupt coughing fit that roughened his throat and made him thump his  
  
chest with a fist to clear his lungs.  
  
  
  
  
"Daddy! Daddy, what is the matter!?"  
  
  
  
  
Mr. Carter massaged his throat and steadied himself against a wall to lessen the pain.  
  
"Mallory, give me the liquid medicine on the kitchen counter, please. Hurry!"  
  
  
  
  
Mallory did as she was told in a dash and brought a spoon along with her by which to  
  
administer the medicine to her father. It only took two spoonfuls of the syrup to  
  
terminate the man's coughing fits, but the event had still scarred his daughter in  
  
unexplainable ways. What if she had not been there to help him? Would he have managed  
  
to reach the medicine? And what if he had not? What then?  
  
  
  
  
She helped him to his bed and sat on its edge with mournful eyes. She could never   
  
forgive herself if something had happened to her father while she had been off  
  
laughing about with Spot, Race or Jack! She would bring the blame all upon herself  
  
without hesitation. "Daddy, I won't leave your side..." but he had already drifted to  
  
sleep.  
  
  
  
  
* * * * *   
  
  
  
  
ATTENTION!!! URGENT MESSAGE!!! Runner is sick in bed. I called in a few Doctors this  
morning and you know what they said?!? "Sorry, m'am, but the kid is suffering from  
something we at fanfiction.net call: REVIEW-INGITIS!!!" I asked how it could possibly  
be cured and they replied that only a substantial amount of reviews would do the trick!  
The worse part is, this sickness is contagious! Soon, Spot will get it, then Jack and  
Race, and worse of all ME!!! Your beloved author! SO PLEEEEEEEEEASE help us out over  
here, insanity has been borned! REVIEEEEEEEEW!!! Thanks sooooo MUCH! Love ya all!!!! 


	6. Fan of Shakespeare

DISCLAIMER: These characters do NOT belong to me unfortunately. I tried to kidnap  
them from Disney and was unsuccessful. Go figure. However, Runner and Mallory are  
MINE, and so is Josephine, Aunt Patricia, and Daisy! Muahahaha! So take that, Mickey!!  
OoOogles! I almost forgot Becca and Snap. They's mine too!! BleH! : ) Ah, the list just  
goes on, there's Mr. Carter too of course.   
  
  
  
A.N. GUESS WHAT, EveryBODY!!!! Today, I met the guy I have a super big crush on!!! Ya  
  
see, he's not in any of my classes so I just admire him from afar, but my best friend  
  
has third period with him and she talked to him today. So later ay lunch when she's  
  
with me, he was coming from behind me and waved at her and then she says, "Oh, this is  
  
my friend, lily!" And I turn around completely HORRIFIED because I had no idea he  
  
REALLY WAS there!!!   
  
  
Ya know, My friend is always playing pranks on me saying the guy I like is right   
  
behind me when he really isn't. Sadly enough, he really was behind me  
  
this time and I've must've looked so STUPID!! mUahahaha! But we said our hi's and we  
  
even shook hands. And then he said "it was nice meeting you." And of course, I just nod  
  
and all. I could barely speak. *shakes head* It was a tragedy. I was so unprepared.  
  
  
  
So he's just standing there and as much as I try to think of something to talk about   
  
with him, I CAN'T!!! So a few seconds later, he says bye and leaves. *growl* Too bad  
  
I saw him afterschool and passed right by him without saying hi because I was soooo  
  
HOrrIFIeD!! My guy friends, Ernesto and Frank, were threatening to drag me to him or  
  
even drag him to ME!! I was like AHHHHH!!!! I looked back and there he was sitting on  
  
the steps staring at me and later Ernesto is like, "he's still staring at you, ya know."  
  
But alas, I didn't talk to him. Fear is an evil thing!! I'll make an attempt to start  
  
a conversation tomorrow though!!! Alrite, enough about me, onto the story!!!  
  
  
  
  
  
*Snuggles: Nooo, Jack was in love with your looong reviews, youse don't have to shorten  
them up! They newsies just thought it neccessary to point it out to you in appreciation!  
Yaaay! *giggles* Spot didn't appreciate you finding humor in him getting blown off, by  
the way, lol. But don't worry, Jack will protect you from his high and mighty!! OMG, I  
have to email you later about what happened between me and Andre!!!  
  
  
*Shortie: WoWzeRz, someone certainly has it bad for a certain Brooklyn leader's cousin!  
LoL! I'm beginning to think you love him more than I do! *Runner reads the review and  
counts how many times his name was written* "How many was it, Runnah?" "Ten!" he  
shouts back cheerfully. He especially appreciates you thinking his evil quotes are  
"cute". Only you, Shortie. Only you. LoL! Your computer growled at youse?! Oh My! Now  
that is scary!!! You should have broke out a whip and started circus training it. : )  
I think you're going to loooove Runner in this chapter, my dear. Some of that supposed  
'sensitivity' you lasted pointed out comes out again. Although, the ending is best  
because he shows Manhattan who the real King of New York is when it comes to winning over  
the ladies. Dun get jealous now, Shortie! : ) EK, FlamERs are quite the   
pessimist sometimes. That really sucks that your story was taken off, though! What   
exactly did you say in your reply to them!? LoL! *sigh* Now as I think of it, Runner  
seems like the type who would go around insulting people's work. Hahaha!!! By the way,  
he IS feeling better, he especially brightened up when your review came in. *dashes   
away as Runner chases her around the house with Spot's cane* OoOogles, he doesn't like  
me revealing things like that. : ) *shrugs*   
  
  
*Trek: WOW! Heya, it's your famous word but it's better than other comments I could get!  
Thanks for reading my other stories, that's so cool! I'm super happy you're enjoying them  
so far. I completely forgot about "When Brooklyn Needed A Rosary" until I read your  
review for it. LoL! Runner was just so cruel in it though, and so I had to take up  
another story in which he was playful. : ) Thanks again for the support! Hope youse  
like this chapter just as mucho as the others!! *the newsies give Trek the award for  
the most times "WOW" has been said by a reviewer* w00t w00t! Go Trek!! YaaaaY!  
  
  
*bl33ding p03t: FIddlestix!! Muahaha, I like that!! Hmmm, if it helps, Snap isn't really  
anybody you already know. Just a new character to turn the tides of the story. : )  
Thanks for the reviews! Have fun with this chapter, lol. Snap is in it!  
  
  
*Drama-Queen: The majority of your friends are guys? That's so cool. My guy/girl division  
is about equal, though when it comes to "best friends", only 3 or 4 of them are guys.  
I remember in 9th grade though, I always used to hang out with the guys and I know  
what you mean about having to be tough. Youcan't let them have their wat with some things!  
: ) Thanks so much for reviewing!!  
  
  
*SportyChik425: YaaaY! You saved Jack from that terrible disease we all suffer from at  
times!! w00t w00t! Thanks for the help! Ah, Snaps is one of the few that actually  
have rejected Spot. w00t w00t! Major blow to his high and mighty, but he will get over  
it soon enough. Hopefully. Awww, Becca and Race, how cute! *pinches their cheeks* Enjoy  
Chapter 6!  
  
  
*Candi Kane: Ah, my dear impatient one, here's an update coming right at ya! Runner  
graciously thanks you, by the way, for helping him recover from that illness! tsk tsk  
tsk, poor kid. He was so worried he wouldn't get to be in this chapter. It's one of  
his favorites because he gets to show Manhattan who the REAL king of New York is. : )  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Just A Little Bet  
  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~ Race didn't buy papers the next day. He was hypnotized by the memory of that  
  
girl...Becca. She looked so kindhearted, so gentle and friendly. The kind of girl who  
  
did not complain about an overload of work, the kind of girl who had a heart of gold.   
  
Living in the bitter realms of New York, it was virtually impossible to find such a  
  
person, but there she had been all that time, in the very place Race would visit day  
  
by day!  
  
  
  
  
And so, he could not bear to wait any longer to see her face again. Knowing that the  
  
horses at Sheepshead would be getting groomed and fed and prepped up for the races  
  
that awaited them hours from now, the Italian newsie snuck out of the lodging house just  
  
before dawn. He wore what he deemed his best outfit, plaid pants with a white shirt and  
  
mismatching plaid vest, and jogged off to his destination.   
  
  
  
  
The crowds were not as large as they had been the previous day. On the contrary, there  
  
was barely anyone present just yet! Only custodians and other members of the staff,  
  
readying themselves for another hellacious day of mayhem. Race casually walked through  
  
the makeshift lobby and tried to remember where it was that Mallory had slipped into  
  
to find the stables.   
  
  
  
  
"Race? What are you doing here so early?"  
  
  
  
  
The newsie turned in the direction of the voice and saw Becca sitting on a bench a few  
  
feet away from him with a program in her hands. "Becca!"   
  
  
  
  
"Yep, it's me," she smiled back as she walked up to him. "Where's your papers? You didn't  
  
quit your day job, did you?" She laughed then, and Race thought it was the most precious  
  
sound.  
  
  
  
  
"Uhm...I'se wasn't in the mood tah sell."  
  
  
  
  
Becca didn't believe the story. "Then what are you doing here?"   
  
  
  
  
"Uh..." Race was caught off guard. She obviously knew the tracks were his selling spot,  
  
but if he hadn't bought papers and was still here...? "Well, actually, I'se came heah  
  
tah sees youse." Embarassed by the confession, he looked down and waited for her response.  
  
  
  
  
"Really? Aww, how sweet!" No one ever came to see her! People were more awed by the  
  
jockeys and horses than by the one who cared for the horses. She didn't even receive  
  
a word of appreciation from the managers, or a nod of thanks. They took her for granted;  
  
she supposed they believed they could find another caretaker just as easily. But she  
  
didn't mind. She wasn't at Sheepshead for money or honor, she was there because she loved  
  
the animals. So humble and gracious, they taught her many things about life. It turned  
  
out they were the only individuals whom she trusted in life. "Would you like a tour of  
  
the stables? You left so quickly the other day!"  
  
  
  
  
Race's face brightened. "Shoah! I'd like that!"  
  
  
  
  
She took his hand in hers and then led him away to introduce him to her world.  
  
  
  
  
* * * * *   
  
  
  
  
"Shit!" For the life of him Runner could not find the Hebrew scrolls by which he was  
  
to translate the Book of Luke for some foreign guests who would be visiting the church  
  
that day. Rambling on in the old tongue, he threw his arms in the air and craned his   
  
neck to stare at the ceiling of his room. "Eloi, eloi, lima sabachthani!"  
  
  
  
  
"If I'se didn't know any better, I'd say youse were possessed!"  
  
  
  
  
Runner snapped out of his daze and groaned at the sight of Spot entering his room. He  
  
certainly was not in the mood for guests now! "It's Hebrew. Don't let them burn me at  
  
the stake." He managed a slight smirk and then returned to his search.  
  
  
  
  
"Hebrew, huh?" Spot nodded in approval. "I'se impressed, kid."  
  
  
  
  
"Andrew, I attend a school where I am taught five languages, taught so that I can imply  
  
them as a native speaker. Considering Hebrew is one of the first languages the Bible was  
  
written in, there's nothing to be 'impressed' about."  
  
  
  
  
Spot crossed his arms. "I know youse is in a pissy mood when ya start talkin' like that."  
  
  
  
  
"It's not my fault you dropped out of school, Andrew!" The younger spoke condescendingly  
  
but kept his distance, knowing full well the temper he was provoking. "You didn't have  
  
the patience for the work and so threw in the towel. How gracious of you. After my family  
  
had taken you in and provided for you, you just suddenly decide to quit and become a  
  
streetrat!"  
  
  
  
  
"Ya lil' mother fu..." His fist was pulled back ready to strike and his mouth ready to  
  
scream obscenities, but something stopped him. Runner was trembling.  
  
  
  
  
"Go ahead!!" Runner shouted. "Soak the religous prodigy! Soak him 'til he's DEAD!!"  
  
  
  
  
And the Brooklyn leader realized that his cousin actually did long to be put out of his   
  
misery. "Runnah, what'sa mattah?"  
  
  
  
  
Runner pointed all around him. "This! Everything! My father expects me to prepare a trial  
  
sermon to be delivered in front of a congregation in less than a month! Spot, I'se aint  
  
ready fer that! Everytime I'se gets comfortable wid what he throws at me, he only ends  
  
up overloadin' me even more! He's drivin' me insane!"  
  
  
  
  
"Tell 'im that."  
  
  
  
  
"Hell no! The moment I'se admits that I can't handle the crap he assigns me, he'll  
  
suddenly lose pride in me; I aint nuthin' tah brag about no more."  
  
  
  
  
Spot sat on a desk in thought and actually pitied the boy. Though he seemed a carefree  
  
and playful jerk, Runner had much to live up to. His parents had high expectations that  
  
Runner felt he could never fulfill. "Ya know what, kid? Youse in desperate need of a  
  
goil! Come hit the streets wid me tonight so we'se can find ya one!"  
  
  
  
  
"What, youse takin' me tah a whorehouse?"  
  
  
  
  
"Nah, better than that!" Spot smiled. "I'se takin' ya tah the goils' room of the  
  
Manhattan lodgin' house!"  
  
  
  
  
Runner had to laugh. "Do them goils like youse sayin' shit like that?"  
  
  
  
  
Spot shrugged. "What they's don't know can't hoit 'em."  
  
  
  
  
* * * * *   
  
  
  
  
Mallory walked into Tibby's with a scarf adorning her hair, though she did not sport  
  
it for fashionable reasons. Her father was running a fever and had requested that she  
  
fix him a hot bowl of chicken broth, but upon realizing that she hadn't the ingredients  
  
to make the soup, she decided to stop at the closest restaurant to her home to purchase  
  
it already made instead. Just her luck, though. If she remembered correctly, Jack had  
  
once said something about Tibby's being the divine palace for tired newsies, as it was  
  
the secret 'hideout' where they had planned countless schemes for their 1899 strike.  
  
  
  
  
"Good day, m'am. What can I get for ya today?"  
  
  
  
  
The girl skimmed over the menu and pursed her lips. "Some chicken broth please, and a  
  
cup of Clam Chowder."  
  
  
  
  
The man nodded, scribbled an order on a slip of paper, and disappeard into the kitchen.   
  
Mallory rested her elbows on the marble counter and buried her face in her hands. She  
  
was so tired! She wouldn't allow herself to get a single moment of sleep last night as  
  
she sat at her father's bedside, monitoring his breathing and temperature. She hated   
  
seeing him like this, her strong and courageous father now bedridden in sickness. It made  
  
the tears fall endlessly.   
  
  
  
  
"Hurry, Madeline! Finish your sandwich. Here comes those dreadful newsboys!" Mallory   
  
looked up and saw an elderly woman urging her grandaughter to consumer her lunch with   
  
more speed than she currently was. "Madeline, I do say! You will be the deaths of us!  
  
Do you want your precious doll to be stolen by one of those hooligans? Worse yet, do  
  
you want to catch their fleas! Come now, dear. Take the food with you. We're leaving!"  
  
  
  
  
Mallory glared at the insult. Had she sounded that repugnant when first she met Spot?  
  
She turned in her seat and watched as the Manhattan newsies began to filter into the  
  
restaurant in cheerful spirits, telling jokes and laughing, teasing each other and  
  
running around like five-year-olds. The girl could not help but smile, even when she  
  
knew the boys would delay her on her return home. Taking the scarf from her head, she  
  
did away with the disguise and waited.  
  
  
  
  
Jack entered just then and grinned at her. "Mallory! It's been a while! How's youse been  
  
doing?!" He wrapped his arms around her for a hug and then sat on the empty stool to  
  
her right.   
  
  
  
  
"Have you raised any money for my father yet? I don't mean to sound demanding, but I   
  
know you said you would and I trust you. So I was merely musing over the matter. My   
  
father...he isn't doing too well, Jack. I need all the help I can obtain."  
  
  
  
  
The Manhattan leader froze. He had completely forgotten about his promise to Mallory!  
  
"Uh...yea!" He lied. "We'se been gettin' a few dollars, in no time, we'll raise enough  
  
fer ya dad."  
  
  
  
  
"Thank you so much, Jack!" She hugged him again and wiped her eyes. "I will be forever  
  
indebted to you!"  
  
  
  
  
"Ah, don't worry about it!"  
  
  
  
  
* * * * *   
  
  
  
  
Runner smirked when a girl called Princess shyly approached him and between giggles  
  
asked if he were really related to Spot Conlon. When the boy nodded, she gasped in  
  
excitement and pressed her lips against his before he could object. Taking advantage  
  
of the situation, Runner leaned her over the bed beside them and turned the innocent  
  
kiss into quite a bit more.   
  
  
  
  
Princess could not find the words to speak and simply sat motionless as the boy   
  
abruptly ended the expressions of lust, smiled at her, and then returned to the group  
  
of boys who waited for him in a corner of the main room of the Manhattan lodging  
  
house.  
  
  
  
  
Jack was the first to congratulate him. "Well, well, well. What was that all about?"  
  
  
  
  
"See?" Race exclaimed. "I knew she's would be into youse!"  
  
  
  
  
Blink patted the kid on the back. "Ya good, Runnah. Youse is good!!"  
  
  
  
  
"Ah, guys," Runner said, shaking his head. "C'mon, it was nuthin'. She only did it  
  
'cause one of ya bums told 'er I was Spot's cousin."  
  
  
  
  
"So?!"  
  
  
  
  
The young Conlon rolled his eyes at their ignorance. "So she didn't kiss me 'cause she  
  
liked me. She kissed me 'cause of me connections."  
  
  
  
  
Spot leaned forward in his chair. "Ya want a real challenge, Runnah? Ya see that goil  
  
over there, wid black hair, readin' a book? The anti-social? Her name's Snap; how   
  
'bout youse give 'er a try, huh?"  
  
  
  
  
"She borrowed that book from Kloppmann," said Jack. "I think it was called somethin'  
  
like 'A Midnight Summer's Dream'."  
  
  
  
  
"Ya mean A Midsummer Night's Dream, cowboy?" Runner laughed at the fact that the   
  
Manhattan leader wasn't familiar with Shakespeare and accepted Spot's challenge. "All  
  
right, I'll do it. But what's in it fer me?"  
  
  
  
  
Race slapped down two dollars. "I says youse won't even be able tah get three sentences  
  
outta ya mouth 'fore she gives ya a nice shinah."  
  
  
  
  
"I second that," Blink agreed, throwing a dollar onto the table. "Ya charm aint gunna woik  
  
on her."  
  
  
  
  
Then, Pie Eater, Snoddy, Specs, Snitch, and Mush risked some pocket change on the bet   
  
aginst Runner, believing he wouldn't stand a chance against the wrath of Snap. The sum  
  
of the money steadily accumulating on the table just surpassed eight dollars and sixty  
  
two cents and Spot smirked at the odds against his cousin. "Well, seein' how this aint  
  
favorin' youse too much, kid, I'se gunna bet the five dollars I won today in a boxin'  
  
match." He took the bill out of his pocket, unfolded it for all to behold its glory, and  
  
gently layed it atop the pile of coins and paper.   
  
  
  
  
"Ya know, fellahs," Jack said then. "I'se feel it me moral obligation tah remind youse  
  
that Runnah has many times in the past stolen Spot's goils when..."  
  
  
  
  
"WHAT!?" Spot's rising anger quieted the room and he shot his cousin a meaningful look,   
  
waiting for an explanation.   
  
  
  
  
Runner's eyes widened and he took a step back, laughing hesitantly. "Uhm...Jack...uh,  
  
what the hell is youse talkin' about. I aint never...'stole' a goil from Spot, only..."  
  
and in all the most inopportune times to do so, he chose this moment to give them a  
  
cocky smirk. "I'se only showed 'em Spot weren't the only one that could stick his tongue  
  
down a goil's throat."  
  
  
  
  
Spot was about to jump to his feet but Jack put his hands on the Brooklyn leader's   
  
shoulders and held him down. He wasn't about to let a fight break out in his lodging   
  
house again. Last that had happened, Kloppmann had thrown all the boys involved into  
  
the streets for two nights; it had been one of the worse winters too! "Ah, c'mon, Spot.  
  
It's not like any of them goils ever meant anything tah youse anyways."  
  
  
  
  
"Yea, yea," was all Spot cared to say, but he still held Runner in check and warned him  
  
with his eyes that this matter had definitely not been resolved yet. Meanwhile, some of the  
  
other boys took back their money and instead made bets among themselves, taking this new  
  
bit of information to heart. They all had already known that Runner was Spot's protege  
  
when it came to playing with girl's hearts, but actually sneaking around with one of  
  
Spot's girls!? That's something no one dared do, fearing the Brooklyn leader would   
  
rearrange their faces, dislocate their limbs, and then throw them into some freezing  
  
river. But it often seemed as if Runner got away with such things, whether it was Spot's  
  
choice or not.   
  
  
  
  
"So, I'se talk tah the goil and if I convince her tah let me kiss her, then all that money  
  
right there is gunna have a new home in me pocket." Runner fixed his bowler hat sideways,  
  
as he was not too fond of wearing it the traditional way, and cracked his knuckles.   
  
"Fellahs, allow me tah demonstrate the intricacies of courting." Waving at a few girls who  
  
called his name as he passed them by, he took a deep breath and focused his eyes on  
  
his target. What was her name...ah, Snap! He thought he remembered someone telling  
  
him about Snap having publicly rejected Spot the other day, and then began to  
  
question his own chances. If she was rambunctious enough to play with fire, wouldn't  
  
she extinguish a single flame just as easily?  
  
  
  
  
Finally he arrived at her bunk and with a loud sigh said, "Lovers and madman have such  
  
seething brains, such shaping fantasies that apprehend, more than cool reason ever  
  
comprehends, the Lover the Madman and the Poet are of imagination all compact."  
  
  
  
  
Snap looked up unimpressed, for she assumed he had simply read the words off the back  
  
of her book, but upon turning over the book and seeing those lines nowhere, she raised  
  
an eyebrow and slightly smiled. "So youse a Shakespeare fan or sumthin'?"  
  
  
  
  
"I'se more a fan of Oscar Wilde meself, but Shakespeare's okay."  
  
  
  
  
"Okay!? He's the father of classical literature! All his works is masterpieces!"  
  
  
  
  
"Well I wouldn't go so far as tah say that," Runner smiled. "But he's pretty good at the  
  
craft." He started to sit down on her bed but when she scowled at him, he remained on  
  
his feet. "Youse ever wonder how good writers is in a relationship? I mean, they's  
  
write about lust and passion and desire, but they rarely experience it themselves. They's  
  
tend tah be loners...yet when it comes tah love, they's probably the experts."  
  
  
  
  
The girl laughed at the thought. "I'se aint never thought of that."  
  
  
  
  
"I'se shoah youse been kissed before, right?"   
  
  
  
  
Snap's smile dropped. "Excuse me?"  
  
  
  
  
"Don't take it the wrong way," he replied. "I'se just askin' youse if ya ever been kissed  
  
before. I didn't mean tah offend ya."  
  
  
  
  
Still skeptical, she bit her bottom lip and looked down at the play she was reading. Of  
  
course she had been kissed in her past. Kissed by boys she adored, kissed by ones she  
  
loathed. It was all the same to her, though. They never meant anything. "Yea, what about  
  
it?"  
  
  
  
  
Runner's eyes were sparkling. "Have youse ever been kissed by a writer?"  
  
  
  
  
"Oh, please don't tell me ya a writer! Bullshit!"  
  
  
  
  
"It's true!" he exclaimed. "And if ya don't believe me, stop by the cathedral in   
  
Morningside Heights one day and I'll personally show youse me collection of published  
  
woiks!" He made an attempt to sit on her bed and this time she didn't object. "Poetries,  
  
critiques, parodies, and short stories. I even wrote the play we'se puttin' on  
  
tomorrow. But don't avoid the question, Snap. Youse ever kissed a writer?"  
  
  
  
  
She shook her head. "Can't say that I'se have."  
  
  
  
  
He scooted closer to her. "Heah's ya chance."  
  
  
  
  
"Oh yea, whaddya expect me tah do? Pass out into ya arms just 'cause ya know William  
  
Shakespeare aint no factory woiker? Ya think youse can win me over with poetry? Shit,  
  
ya woise than Spot Conlon! At least that joik got right tah the point! But youse really  
  
think.."  
  
  
  
  
"Hey, hey!!" He cupped a hand over her mouth to silence her.  
  
  
  
  
"Get ya hand off'a me!" She grabbed his fingers and twisted them, cracking the bones  
  
with an unnatural pop and laughing at Runner's obvious pain.  
  
  
  
  
"Snap! Would ya stop beatin' up the kid!" Snap watched as Jack and crew stormed over  
  
her way meaning to put her in her place. Thinking fast, she threw an arm around Runner's  
  
shoulders, whispered a plead into his ear, and grinned up at the Manhattan leader.  
  
  
  
  
"Jack, couldn't youse at least leave us in peace? We'se was just havin' fun!"  
  
  
  
  
Runner gave her a confused look, but nodded nonetheless. "Yea, Jack. Can't ya see  
  
we'se gettin' somewhere over heah? I mean, I'se was just about tah take Snap upstairs  
  
into one of the private rooms!" He felt her pinch him and nearly yelped.   
  
  
  
  
Spot crossed his arms, unconvinced. "Snap, cut the shit, ya know youse don't even like  
  
the kid."  
  
  
  
  
"Ah, shaddup, Conlon, what do youse knows?!" And to prove her point, she grabbed Runner's  
  
face in her hands and kissed him hard and long, putting on quite a show for her spectators.  
  
  
  
  
  
Everyone but the Brooklyn leader started making catcalls, urging Runner to take control  
  
of the situation. Snap broke the kiss and smiled up at Spot with hate-filled eyes and the  
  
latter muttered something in reply and walked away, followed by the newsies involved in  
  
the bet. Runner rose off the bed with a foolish grin and as he swung his feet over its  
  
side, he felt Snap pull him back and whisper yet another comment into his ear.  
  
  
  
  
"Youse a damn good kissah!"  
  
  
  
  
* * * * *   
  
  
  
Hmmmm, that seemed rather short, eh? More reviews=longer chapters, with the character  
of your choice!!!! *hint hint* LoL!!! Seriously, though, you goils is doing great with  
these reviews!!! I'se so proud and happy! Best OF ALL, everyone here has been cured of  
REVIEW-INGITIS!!!!!!!!!!! *throws confetti on all the newsies as they practice their  
pelvic thrust* Mmmm, yum yum!! : ) So anywho, how's it going so far? Like? No Like?  
Tralalalalala. I'm still open for suggestions! Feel free to pour them in those reviews!  
I love reading all your REVIEWS!!!!!!! So c'mon!!! REVIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEW!!!!  
THroW Me A BOne!!!! LOLOLOLOLOLOLOL!!!! Love ya all! 


	7. First Gentleman Caller

DISCLAIMER: These characters do NOT belong to me unfortunately. I tried to kidnap  
them from Disney and was unsuccessful. Go figure. However, Runner and Mallory are  
MINE, and so is Josephine, Aunt Patricia, and Daisy! Muahahaha! So take that, Mickey!!  
OoOogles! I almost forgot Becca and Snap. They's mine too!! BleH! : ) Ah, the list just  
goes on, there's Mr. Carter too of course.   
  
  
  
A.N. CORRECTION! In the last chapter, there was a mispelling for one of the Hebrew  
words that Runner says. Instead of "lima", the word should be "lama". Just in case  
there are any highly critical language-translating reviewers out there! SorrIE!  
THANKS FOR THE REVIEWS!!! NO SLACKING!!! KEEP 'EM ROLLIN' IN OR ME AND RUNNER WILL  
GO ON STRIKE!!! : ) Kidding! I just love hearing from you guys so much! ENJOY!  
  
  
  
  
  
*Snuggles: Midsummer Night's Dream. Actually, you are in part responsible for the   
inclusion of that play. When you were telling me how Christian Bale is in it, it  
reminded me of how my friend said it was a cute movie and how I've been wanting to see  
it for a while now. Then, just last week, my school had its annual Shakespeare Contest  
and I remembered that last year, I did those same lines (plus 10 more) that Runner used  
in the last chapter so it all came together! w00t w00t! Awww, a junioe at your school  
died? That's really sad! : ( My deepest sympathy. Not too long ago, a guy that goes to  
my school was stabbed to death by another student because, and get how stupid this is,  
his girlfriend was cheating on him with the other guy! How stupid is that! I can't  
believe anyone would kill another person over jealousy! Alrite, maybe Spot would...lol.  
But that's a different story. Heya, I read the Odyssey, well we only had to read parts  
of it. The parts we did read were interesting. And then we saw some of the movie. It was  
pretty good, but if you have to read the WHOLE ENTIRE book, you once again have my  
sympathy. LoL!! Yaaay, I can't wait for my entrance into your new fic. I'm Spot's girl,  
I'm Spot's girl!! WOOOOhoooooooo! Hahaha, welperz, enjoy Chapter 6!!!  
  
  
*Angel: Ahhh, I always get your reviews the day I update and then I can't include you  
in these shout-outs!! I've like, jipped you twice already I think. Sorry it's taking  
so long for me to edit your story but unexpected things just start popping out of  
nowhere and it's driving me insane because there's only spelling errors wrong with it  
that I can easily correct and send back to you! *growls at school* This would be so  
much easier if I were in college already. : ) You're definitely going to get the edited  
version back this weekend, don't worry! I promise on Runner's life! *Runner looks nervous*  
And we all know how much I love Runner! : ) Thanks for the reviews!!!  
  
  
*Lanen: OoOoO, new reviewer! Thanks for reading what I have written so far! I'm glad  
you like it. Like I tell all new people, always keep in mind that I am open for  
suggestions. If there's somthing you'd like to see, feel free to tell me and I'll try to  
work it in if I can. For the records, who's your favorite character? : ) Well, thanks  
again! Here's another chapter for youse! EnjoY!  
  
  
*SportyChik425: Yeaaah! Runner showed up Spot alright! Muahahaha. I swear, that was a  
golden moment for me. *sigh* But which of them really has the most charm. Ay, the world  
may never know. As for Jack, forgetting, he does seem so perfect, doesn't he? : )  
Maybe he was off dreaming about Santa Fe again? *shrugs* Sure, why not? lol! "Heya Race,  
are ya gunna drop outta the bet?" *Race keeps his mouth sealed* Awww man! He's not  
saying! Poops! Jack will have another try at Mallory in the next chapter or so! : )  
Thanks for the review!   
  
  
*Shortie: OMG, your review had me laughing hysterically!!! You're insane one, I tell ya.  
Yepperz, I met the guy I like and today I even gave him a note. *Runner rolls his eyes*  
Hahaha, the R-Man!? LOL!! Ya wanna steal dear ol' Runner, ay? That should be interesting...  
You're not going to tie him to the seat of an airplane headed for some secluded island  
on the Atlantic Ocean so that you can imprison him in a four-foot cabin and make him  
listen to you repeat his nest lines in this story at least twenty-seven times over are  
you? Yea, I thought you would. But hey, he's scaring me over here with all that Hebrew  
talk, maybe you SHOULD take steal him for a weekend. *snickers* Ah, Yoda talk is  
awesome! Have you seen that commercial for Star Wars II where the narrator is like  
"Who's the Man" and then he says "Yo Da Man" ? *Runner arches an eyebrow* Okay, I thought  
it was funny. BleH! Bring it on, I got Marshmallows? Muahahaha! Grandose! I'm going to  
have to use that line somehow...although it might be a bit fluffy to be coming out of  
Runner's mouth. So anywho, I was with the newsie the other day, when all of a sudden,  
Race walks in with new clothes and a haircut...and...well, waxed eyebrows. We just stared  
at him for a whole fifteen minutes wondering what the hell happened. Runner knew what  
was up before the rest of us, but when he suggested that you had stolen Race, we only  
started staring at Runner for a whole fifteen minutes. It was very confusing and now my  
eyes just hurt. : ) Hahaha, Runner is a smart cookie...he just hides it very well.   
*Runner smacks her upside the head* OWIE!! You Meanie!! Jack wanted to say something.  
"It aint lyin', it's improvin' the truth!" All rite, now that that's said. Runner stealing  
Spot's girls...well it only happened once or twice...or five or six times... *shrugs*  
Hmmm, and as for whose hotter...I'm not even going to get into that issue. I'm afriad  
I might wake up tied upside down from the roof of the Brooklyn lodging house...or worse,  
a cathedral. Yay, Runner, someone likes you because of the pain in the ass you are!!  
w00t w00t! Welperz, here's another chapter for youse, with a smidget of RUnner's smartness  
and the beginning of your jealousy. *Runner blows Shortie a kiss before the chapter begins*  
Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwww. "How come I don't get kissies?!" *Runner blinks*   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Just A Little Bet  
  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~ Snap placed Jack's cowboy hat atop her head but scowled when it, being of  
  
a much too large size, fell past her eyes and momentarily blacked out her vision. Beside  
  
her, she heard the Manhattan leader laugh lightly and she almost smiled to herself at  
  
having amused him in some way. She knew that since her arrival she had given him nothing  
  
but trouble as she fulfilled the querolous attributes she was known for and it somewhat  
  
lightened the load upon her as she showed her other qualities as a person. She could be  
  
kindhearted when times called for it, times in which she would need to wheedle her way  
  
out of a situation with the sole use of sweet talking, but wasn't raised on the streets  
  
to be affable and well mannered. She was a tigress; she would get what she wanted even  
  
if it meant breaking moral barriers.  
  
  
  
  
Sometimes, they asked her if she felt an ounce of shame. The high class would wrinkle  
  
their noses at the sight of her and bring a handkerchief to their mouths, as if her  
  
very presence would spread some airborne disease. "Well brought up young ladies don't  
  
maraud about in boy's clothing, stealing their meals and sleeping in alleys with hermits."  
  
Snap would only give them a sarcastic look. Did it look as if she were a well brought  
  
up brat? Hell, if she were, did they really think she would choose this lifestyle? She  
  
associated with the riffraff, yes, and she sometimes had to break the law to survive,  
  
yes, but did she honestly give a damn? Of course not.  
  
  
  
  
"So, has youse ever sold papes before?" Jack shifted his stack of a hundred papers from  
  
his left shoulder to his right and yawned from the morning grogginess he still felt.   
  
  
  
  
"Mmm, in New Joisey I'se did 'fore a lil' bit," she replied, taking his hat off and  
  
fixing it back upon his light brown hair. "But as youse can see from the number of papes  
  
I'se bought, I weren't never good at it." She smiled at him and looked down at her  
  
twenty morning editions humbly. Everyone had their weaknesses and if hers only covered  
  
the selling aspects of a newsie's life, why should she hesitate to publicly acknowledge  
  
that?  
  
  
  
  
Jack laughed again and started to walk northward, still trying to decide where he would  
  
sell today. Unlike most of his boys, he was a tumbleweed and sold wherever his adventures  
  
led him. "Ya wanna sell wid me today?" He was fully expecting the girl to say no. After  
  
having shot down Spot Conlon twice and then making out with the Brooklynite's younger  
  
cousin, she wasn't exactly someone to be getting involved with.   
  
  
  
  
"Shoah, why not? That'd be interestin'. I'se hoid some of the boys talkin' 'bout youse  
  
sellin' like ya some god. Maybe I'se can loirn a thing or two." As an afterthought, she  
  
added, "Hopefully free of charge." How Jack had swindled David into paying him for  
  
selling observations was still talked about at the Manhattan lodging house and  
  
newcomers to the place didn't have to even stay too long before they were told the classic  
  
story.   
  
  
  
  
"Nah, I'se don't make the goils pay, 'less of coise theys want to," he looked at her  
  
slyly and managed to get a grin out of her.  
  
  
  
  
"Ya know, I'se hoid more 'bout youse than ya tactics," she said then, as Jack was going  
  
over the stories on the front page of his papers, making sure he hadn't missed something  
  
that could be transformed into a best selling idea. He looked up at her and waited. "Like  
  
how youse and Spot is best friends."  
  
  
  
  
He shrugged. "Youse could say that. I'se known Spot since before we'se even became   
  
newsies. Met 'im in the House of Refuge. As a mattah of fact, we'se started out hating  
  
eachother's guts. After havin' fought one too many times, theys threw us out on the  
  
streets and realizing we had in a way saved eachother from Snyder's hell, we'se started  
  
lookin' out fer eachother."  
  
  
  
  
Snaps rather liked the story. An ironic twist of events; it seemed as if that was the  
  
way life worked out in these times. "That might explain the intimcay everyone's talkin'  
  
about," she said quickly. "Tell me, Jack. Who's the better kissah, youse or Spotty?"  
  
  
  
  
"How the hell should I'se know?" He turned to smile at her, but seeing her serious   
  
expression confused him. "What are ya gettin' to?"  
  
  
  
  
"Well, when youse been kissin' someone all ya life, I'se just thought ya might know  
  
whether they's a better kissah than youse."  
  
  
  
  
Jack stopped dead in his tracks. "You think me and Spot is a couple?!" Doubling over  
  
to laugh, he dropped all his papers and the folded pages scattered along the sreets,  
  
some getting caught by the wind and flying aloft in the air. "Oh my god! Sorry tah  
  
break it to youse, sweetheart, but I don't swing that way." He wiped his eyes with the  
  
back of his hands as they were steadily formulating tears. "I can't believe youse asked  
  
me that! What idiot told ya THAT story!!?" He laughed for another good two minutes and  
  
then wrapped his arms against his stomach to put pressure on the pain he now felt.  
  
  
  
  
"Alotta people's been sayin it," she threw at him. "C'mon, I'se seen the looks youse  
  
given 'im. What'sa mattah, Cowboy? Brooklyn aint givin' it tah youse no more?"  
  
  
  
  
"Snap, if I'se didn't find so much humor in this, I'd punch all ya teeth out!" He set to  
  
collecting his fallen papers, occasionally looking back at the girl to emphasize his  
  
words. "Heah me out, I don't know who told ya that shit, but it aint true. Me and Spot  
  
is just friends, that's all."  
  
  
  
  
She walked up to him and looked him straight in the eye with an intimidating fierceness  
  
that made him shudder inside. "If youse aint like that, then prove it."  
  
  
  
  
"Whaddya want me to do? Screw 'im over tah see if I'se like it? Youse gots issues, goily.  
  
I'se seriously considerin' sending ya tah Harlem or Staten where they's gots real nut  
  
cases runnin' around. Have ya even told this tah Spot? D'ya realize he would embed a  
  
shootah through ya forehead if ya did?"  
  
  
  
  
"Alls I'se need ya tah do is kiss me. I'll know then if ya just kiss me."  
  
  
  
  
"How would that prove anything?" he complained, growing annoyed by her persistence.   
  
  
  
  
She grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him closer, locking her lips with his an  
  
instant later. With her hands clasped behind his neck and his resting upon her hips, she  
  
knew she had him right where she wanted. She knew he wasn't into men; it had merely  
  
been a crafy diversion to blind him from her real scheme. Pulling away from him, she  
  
caressed his cheek with her hand and nodded. "Ya right. Youse a ladies' man."  
  
  
  
  
Jack halfsmiled and looked at her with narrowed eyes. "Was that ya lil' way of gettin'  
  
me tah kiss youse?"  
  
  
  
  
"Jack! A goil's mind is trickier than that!" She pulled back her hair with a piece of  
  
cloth that had been tied around her wrist and helped the Manhattan leader gather up  
  
the last of his papers. When the morning editions were in order, they stood in silence  
  
for a moment trying to decide where they would sell.  
  
  
  
  
"Ah, let's just walk around and see where we'se end up."  
  
  
  
  
Snap nodded in agreement and tagged alongside him with a pleased grin on her face. This  
  
was working out just as she had wanted. With a few more minor adjustments, she would enjoy  
  
the ferment she was creating. "Jack, I wanna ask youse a question and I need ya tah answer  
  
me honestly. What would youse say tah us hookin' up?"  
  
  
  
  
* * * * *   
  
  
  
  
"No means No! Must I spell it out for you, Spot!? Why is it in your nature to be so  
  
seduous? One would almost believe you'd given up by now! But no, here is Mr. Conlon  
  
again, never receiving rejections lightly and never allowing a girl to pass up the chance  
  
of being with him!" Mallory pulled at her curls in anger and continued venting as she  
  
stormed about her living room with Spot looking on from the couch. "Can't you even  
  
understand why I say no? Does my father being ill mean nothing to you?"  
  
  
  
  
Spot sighed and played with the gold tassels of a pillow beside him. "At least youse is  
  
talkin' so I'se can understand ya. That's an improvement."   
  
  
  
  
She fumed and disappeared into the kitchen when the kettle of tea she was brewing began  
  
to whistle. When she came back, she was carrying two cups of tea, one of which she handed  
  
to Spot, setting the other on the table before her. "Would you like some sugar?"  
  
  
  
  
"Actually, I'se shoulda told ya earlier, I aint really into tea. Gimme some pop, though,  
  
and I'll be fine."  
  
  
  
  
"Ugh!" She snatched the cup from him and spilt some of the hot liquid onto her skirt in  
  
the process. "You couldn't have just accepted the tea, could you? No, you must proceed  
  
to make my life a miserable happening!"  
  
  
  
  
Spot smiled. "Ya want me tah help ya get outta that skoit?"  
  
  
  
  
Mallory glared at him and slammed the cup down on the table, only to gasp when the  
  
porcelain object cracked down a side. "Look at what you've made me do, Spot!!"  
  
  
  
  
"I'se haven't done a single thing, goil!" He laughed, hiding the majority of his face  
  
behind the pillow. "All these things youse bringin' upon yaself! Don't blame me!" But  
  
she could hear his snickers behind the pillow and it took everything she was made of to  
  
keep from throwing the tea into his face.  
  
  
  
  
Meanwhile, Mr. Carter had been awakened by the noise and was journeying to the living  
  
room to see about the problem, though he had much rather stayed in bed for his head  
  
was now spinning with dizziness and his coordination would have been off were it not for  
  
the support of the walls. "Mallory, dear, who are you arguing with?" He entered the room  
  
to see his daughter holding a broken cup in her hands with wide eyes, and then looked  
  
across from her where he saw a handsome boy who appeared amused. "Mallory, who is this  
  
young man?"  
  
  
  
  
"Father, this is my friend, Spot Conlon, who's come to visit me. I've been trying for  
  
the longest to force him to leave for your own peace, but he refuses."  
  
  
  
  
Mr. Carter smiled at Spot. "How pleasant! My daughter has never received a gentleman caller  
  
before! This is a delight! Tell me more about yourself, Spot!" The unusual name did not  
  
phase him in the least bit. The boy was obviously a newsie and that certainly did not  
  
concern him. On the opposition, he always admired the lower classes for their humility   
  
and acceptance of reality. Besides, this particular newsie seemed well behaved unlike  
  
the other transients the man had known.  
  
  
  
  
Mallory blushed at her father's words and reluctantly sat aside from the Brooklyn leader  
  
as he related the basic details of his childhood and his tale of becoming the distinguished  
  
person he now was. "Mr. Cartah, I'se actually heah for more than just a visit. Ya see,  
  
I'se asked ya daughter tah see a play wid me a few days ago, and she had agreed tah it.  
  
However, when I'se came tah pick her up today, she claimed that she couldn't 'cause  
  
she was concerned about youse."  
  
  
  
  
"Mallory! You should have told me about this engagement! You need not stay with me when  
  
such a fine young man has invited you to a play! Why, you adore plays! I will not keep  
  
you locked up in this house as if you are a prisoner. You are free to go where you please,  
  
dear. I am not invalid; I can take care of myself for the few hours you will be gone. Go  
  
with Spot and have fun!"  
  
  
  
  
The girl shook her head. "No, no. I can always go some other time. I really don't-"  
  
  
  
  
"Enough of this!" Mr. Carter raised his hand to silence her and smiled. "Mallory, go  
  
with Spot and enjoy yourselves! I will hear nothing more. Go, go!"  
  
  
  
  
"Well...I've nothing to wear!" Mallory crossed her arms and watched Spot to see how  
  
he would weave his way out of this one. But her father beat him to it.  
  
  
  
  
"Oh, such petty things you worry over! I should expect you back at around what time,  
  
Spot?"  
  
  
  
  
Spot had to bite his lower lip to keep from laughing at the girl's obvious disappointment.  
  
"Uh, sir, I'se honestly don't know what time the play starts, but I'se can have her heah  
  
'fore seven whether it's finished or not."  
  
  
  
  
"Oh, how delightful!" Mr. Carter laughed and shook hands with the newsie. "Have her back  
  
at seven, if only all gentlemen were like you! You may escort her back to this very house  
  
by nine. And I will trust that you treat her with respect!"  
  
  
  
  
"Of coise, Mr. Cartah," Spot smiled. "I'se wouldn't ever make Mal do somethin' she  
  
aint wanna do."  
  
  
  
  
"Mal? Ha, did you hear that, dearest? I am convinced to make that your new pet name!"  
  
  
  
  
Mallory grimaced. "Please don't father, it is utterly atrocious." She glared at  
  
Spot as she dressed herself in a thick wool jacket that dropped past her knees, covering  
  
up the tea stain on her skirt, and fitted her hands through white leather gloves she had  
  
received last Christmas from a distant relative. "I would hurl at the sound of it were  
  
that a proper thing to do." But her father hadn't heard her. He was too busy admiring  
  
her 'first gentleman caller'.  
  
  
  
  
* * * * *   
  
  
  
Becca patted a horse called Jumper on the shoulder after the animal had nuzzled her  
  
cheek with its muzzle. "Jumper's one of my favorites," she told Race as he hung onto her  
  
every word. "Me and his owner saw him in a race at the Virginia tracks. As soon as he  
  
took off down those lanes, I fell in love. The way his muscles worked, the shine of his  
  
coat, the desire to win in his eyes, I fell for it all. I convinced Mr. Webster to buy  
  
him, assuring him that his losing days would be over with the horse on our side. At first,  
  
he was unsure, even moreso when Jumper's previous owner requested a ridicolous amount  
  
for the sale! But little by little, after a few more persuasions and a negotiation to  
  
reduce the price, Jumper was ours. We took him here to Sheepshead, and as you probably  
  
know if you follow the records, he's a true champion!"  
  
  
  
  
Race smiled at her excitment when talking about the animals. It made HIM excited. "Did  
  
all the horses come from outta state?"  
  
  
  
  
"Most of them did, but not all of them." She ran her fingers through Jumper's mane and  
  
then turned to a black horse a few stalls down. "This is Holiday Tricks. Some folks  
  
were actually about to euthanize him because of a skin disease he had developed, but I  
  
pleaded with Mr. Webster to save him. I've been working for him for five years now and when  
  
I say I see a winning horse, he takes my word for it. So we took Holiday Tricks to a  
  
veterinarian and over six months, the disease was cured." She laughed and leaned against  
  
the belly of the horse. "Now, he doesn't like to admit it, but ol' Holiday here wasn't  
  
strong and proud back then. Every day I had to rub his coat with a special cream to cure  
  
him. But I don't mind, he's turned into another one of our champions."  
  
  
  
  
"Do all of your horses turn out to be champions?"  
  
  
  
  
Becca's smile dropped. "No, there's been a few occassions when the horse didn't come  
  
out how we had thought, but I fully blame the trainers. They work these horses so hard..."  
  
She sighed. "There was Tailspin, a horse that looked a lot like Jumper. He was a bit on  
  
the obese side and the trainers worked him out for long hours each day to make him lose  
  
the weight. One day, they made the horse run around a track for half the afternoon, with  
  
no food or water, and whenever he stopped to relax, they would drag him with ropes and  
  
force him on. An hour later, he dropped to his knees from fatigue and died right there  
  
in front of us all."  
  
  
  
  
Race rubbed her arm and held her close. "It wasn't your fault, Becca. I'se shoah youse  
  
told 'em tah stop treatin' the horse like that. There weren't nothin' youse coulda  
  
done. And just think, maybe Tailspin's in a better place now where he aint gotta run  
  
races and stay on select diets. Now he can trot around carefree and roll in the grass  
  
and play wid as many sugarcubes as he wants..."  
  
  
  
  
She laughed and turned away from him. "They're like my family, Racetrack. I know each  
  
and every one of them like the back of my hand." She petted Holiday Trick's neck and  
  
sighed. "At night, I tell them all my secrets and dreams, and they kiss me goodnight  
  
on the cheek or forehead before I leave. We're a family."  
  
  
  
  
"Bettah tah have a family of horses than no family at all, I guess."  
  
  
  
  
"Better to have a family of horses than any family!" she corrected, staring into the  
  
horses' eyes. And when she returned her gaze to Race, she could tell he did not  
  
understand and probably never would.  
  
  
  
  
* * * * *   
  
  
  
  
"Lucas! Wait up, I had to ask you a question!" Patrick Tyler jogged up to his friend  
  
and panted from the sprint. He was not exactly the sportish type, that much was evident,  
  
and so a simple walk across the cathedral could easily tire him. "I would have inquired   
  
this of you when class ended, but you sped out the door so fast, I don't even think   
  
you received Father Aesop's assigment!"  
  
  
  
  
Runner shrugged. "So were you wanting something?" The young Conlon always thought of  
  
Patrick as an unusual character. Not too long ago, the boy had suddenly vanished from  
  
his dormitory at Saint John's Preparatory School, closing classes that day-and for the  
  
rest of the week, and setting the entire teaching staff on a state wide search that  
  
ended in vain until one day, Patrick had been found by a group of nuns distributing bread  
  
and tea at a train station. Apparently, the boy had been 'called' to preach to the  
  
homeless ones that dwelled at the station every night. Runner knew better and would only  
  
say that Patrick was slightly 'off'.  
  
  
  
  
"Oh yes! You see, I'm not a genious like you, Lucas, and so my grasp on Calculus this  
  
semester is tenuous. I can barely comprehend the formulas we use to solve the equations!  
  
I was hoping, perhaps when you were free, that you could possibly tutor me?"  
  
  
  
  
Runner groaned at the request. How many more classmates were going to ask for his aid?  
  
If only Father Aesop had not announed the boy's "Perfect Score Streak" that had begun  
  
three weeks ago when he was the only one in class to receive a hundred on a test  
  
that was compiled to LOWER the students' scores. It was policy to test the student body  
  
to their fullest limits, but Runner seemed to make limits of his own. "Yea, well I'll  
  
see if I can fit it in this week. You going to the play?"  
  
  
  
  
Patrick pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "What time does it start?"  
  
  
  
  
"In thirty minutes."  
  
  
  
  
"No, I should be getting to my Latin homework and history essay." And with that, he  
  
thanked his friend and hurried off with books in hand.   
  
  
  
  
Runner shook his head. "That damn history essay aint due 'til a month from now," he  
  
muttered under his breath. Paying attention to his immediate agenda, he hurried to the  
  
sanctuary where his play was being held and checked with the directors and choir members  
  
one last time to make sure they knew their cues. Then he made a quick appearance backstage  
  
and led the actors in a prayer, at the request of his mother, finally throwing his white  
  
gown as an altar boy over his current clothes and grabbing a pile of programs to be given  
  
out before the production at the doors.   
  
  
  
  
At a quarter to six, Spot had still not shown up and Runner was growing agitated. It  
  
wasn't enough that his father was away on some 'Peace Agreement' Mission in Africa, now  
  
his cousin was going to be absent as well!? He distracted himself by tearing the edges  
  
of the last program he held, imagining what could possibly be keeping Spot from making  
  
it on time.   
  
  
  
  
"Heya Runnah, youse into origami now?"  
  
  
  
  
Lost in his thoughts, Runner had not even seen Spot as the Brooklyn leader passed through  
  
the doorways with a girl behind him. "Bout time."  
  
  
  
  
Spot smirked. "I'se touched, Runnah. Did me attendance really mean that much tah youse?"  
  
  
  
  
"Not really," the younger lied, not willing to put down his heartless barriers, something  
  
Spot was just as guilty for. "Actually, I was on me way tah lock the doors fer the night.  
  
Ya lucky youse made it on time. Who's the goily?"   
  
  
  
  
"This is the one I'se been tellin' ya about fer days now," Spot answered, as he pulled  
  
Mallory in front of him. "This is Mallory Alexandria Cartah."  
  
  
  
  
Runner's jaw dropped open and the program he was holding fell from his fingers in a soft  
  
glide to the floor. The sounds surrounding him, everything from the chatter of the  
  
audience to the reverberating echoes of the pipe organ's tunes, was no more than a   
  
whisper to him now. All he saw was none other than Mallory. It was her! He could  
  
hardly believe it. She didn't recognize him obviously for she only regarded him as a  
  
new acquaintance and held out her hand in affable means to befriend him, but he knew  
  
it was her from the moment their eyes met. He could never forget.  
  
  
  
  
Spot gave his cousin a small push. "Heya, youse okay?"  
  
  
  
  
"Uh, yea, of coise." He shook his head as if awakening from a dream, wishing Mallory  
  
had only been a gossamer image of his hallucinations, but there she was, still extending  
  
her hand and waiting for him to grasp it. He took it gratefully, though he did not smile.  
  
His state of shock was beyond any attempt to express his feelings.   
  
  
  
  
Mallory smiled. "It was nice meeting you, uhm...?"  
  
  
  
  
"Lucas!" the boy answered instantly, hoping the name would somehow spark a memory in the  
  
girl's mind. It didn't . Worse of all, he could tell Spot was getting suspicious.  
  
Runner only revealed his real name to the congregation of church. Outside cathedral walls,  
  
he was known by his chosen alias. "It was great meeting youse too, Mallory."  
  
  
  
  
The girl smiled again and then walked off with Spot to find a good seat for the play,  
  
leaving Runner behind to stare after. Mallory...he remembered the first time he had seen  
  
her. He could never forget her. He could never forget the girl that had stolen his heart.  
  
  
  
  
* * * * *   
  
  
  
  
GUESS WHAT!?!? Jack Kelly is so in love with SANTA FE that the kind people at   
fanfiction.net agreed to give him one thousand dollars for every review that was sent  
to this chapter of the story. *Runner breaks out a calculator and helps Morning Dew  
add* Now, our dear Manhattan leader would like to go see a few Rodeos and he told me  
the other night that he wants to purchase a horse or two for some ranch he plans to  
have in a few years. So naturally, Becca has to go with him to pick out the right  
horses. SO PLEASE HELP send Jack to Santa Fe!!! We all know how much he loves the place  
and it would just break his heart if we couldn't raise enough money!!! *Jack sings  
"Santa Fe" while Spot organizes the "Send JACK to SANTA FE Campaign" Did I spell that  
right? LoL!!! SUBMIT THOSE REVIEWS!!!!!!! THANK YOUSE!!! *Jack blows kisses to his  
supporters* Love ya all!!! 


	8. Taking Chances

DISCLAIMER: These characters do NOT belong to me unfortunately. I tried to kidnap  
them from Disney and was unsuccessful. Go figure. However, Runner and Mallory are  
MINE, and so is Josephine, Aunt Patricia, and Daisy! Muahahaha! So take that, Mickey!!  
OoOogles! I almost forgot Becca and Snap. They's mine too!! BleH! : ) Ah, the list just  
goes on, there's Mr. Carter too of course.   
  
  
  
A.N. WOW!!! Again, WOW!!! TEN REVIEWS!!! Nicely done, ladies. Jack was extremely  
elated when we raised so much money! : ) He had a great time in Santa Fe and his  
heartfelt thanks go to all of youse!!! OMG, AN IRONIC TURN OF EVENTS, as Snap would say.  
The guy I was like, IN LOVE WITH in ninth grade moved to California almost two years  
ago. Now, he knew I liked him and all and he was really sweet about it. But get this,  
just tonight, he tells me he's been going out with some girl and he goes on about how  
cute she is and how sweet and shy and how he has pictures of her that he'll send me.  
BUT WAIT!!! HERE'S THE REAL KICKER!!! The girl's name is MALLORY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
Needless to say, I was speechless. _________  
  
  
!!!~ATTENTION~!!!  
For Those Of You Who Are Wondering How Old Everyone's Suppose To Be:  
  
18 years old: Jack, Spot  
17: Blink, Race, Snap  
16: Runner, Becca, Mush  
15: Mallory  
  
Everyone Else is Between 16-17 : )  
  
  
  
*Trek: Awww, I think RUnner is adorable too. Actually, his character is based on some  
guy in my school, but I have no idea if he is anything like Runner, only that he looks  
like him. : ) Maybe I'll talk to him one day and see. He and his friend were stalking  
me one day, it was kinda weird. Hahaha. Ah, so ya like the twists in the story, eh?  
Glad to hear, glad to hear. Just wait 'til things get really heated up! : )  
Well, here's another chappie!  
  
  
*Snuggles: Brian has to stop giving that nutcase blonde rides home or I'll come to Texas  
and beat the both of them up. Alright, I'll let Brian off a bit easier. : ) Did Jack  
stop by on his way to Santa Fe? He said he would. Heehee. You were up at eleven this  
morning!!?? Muahaha, I didn't even get up from bed until twelve. I think that's the   
latest I've ever slept! Andres, Andres, Andres. *sigh* SO far so good, I guess. lol. I  
just gotta work up the nerves to talk to him. Like on Friday when I gave him that note,  
I was just like "Hi....Bye" All right, maybe not that quick, but it sure seemed like  
that. It was just so nervewrecking being in his presence. lol! He is pretty nice though,  
that smirk is to die for! Write Brian a note, write Brian a note!!! You absolutely MUST!  
Awww, poor Runner getting his heart stolen. : ( I think how they know each other will  
be revealed in a few more chapters...I'm not sure yet. Ah well! WRITE THAT NOTE! LoL!  
  
  
*bl33ding p03t: *GASP* You forgot to review?! Jack and Spot are so devastated!! lol, jk!  
Yea, this story is just full of love triangles! Gotta love 'em though! : ) Here's  
another chapter full of the lovely things, heehee.  
  
  
*Shortie: OMG, the running man, lol. I did that for some talent show a loooong time ago.  
Jeeez, that was crazy. I don't even think we were doing it in unison...OoOogles, I have  
to get my eyebrows waxed too! Ner, especially cause I'm going to be talking to that guy  
I like more often! : ) You're the only one who congratulated me on having met him,  
besides Snuggles but that's different cause we email each other about our guy problems.  
lol, people these days...Hmmm, considering therapy as a hobby, huh? Yea, uh...no comment.  
Hahaha, jk! D00d, affable and gossamer were my vocab words too!!! And so were seduous,  
tenuous, and some other word I used! w00t w00t! Go us! I had my vocab test the day I  
updated, so yea. Snap and multiple personalities...sheesh, tell me about it. That goil  
has some major issues. Tea tea tea! Spot, ya could've just taken the tea! *throws an  
apple at him* Yah, Mal's daddy is kewl, alot like my dad, who'd let me go wherever I  
wanted if it weren't for my overprotective mom!!! Haha. Awww horsies! Have you seen  
Black Beauty? Good movie..actually I wouldn't know because I never saw it. But if it's  
anything like the book, it's good. Made me cry. *tear* PaTrIcK RETURNS!! dun dun dun.  
Originally, I was going to make Runner Patrick but I liked the name Lucas better. : )  
ReMinDeR to SHorTiE from RuNNeR: "Never call me Runny again". Heehee. The ending was  
like a chain letter? LoL! Well, that's a first. Anywho, thanks for raising those 2000  
dollars!! And by the way, Runner is 16. : )  
  
  
*SportyChik425: Conflicts indeed. Don't ya just love the classic love triangle...although  
this big mess is like a love-polygon or something. Whoa, a pencil just fell on the floor  
of my room outta nowhere! That was creepy! Anywho, Runner reveals how he knows Mallory  
in a later chapter or maybe sooner... *thinks* I have to plan it out. Things are very  
delicate now, lol. Awww, Becca's story...I think I can finagle something about that  
more sooner. : ) Here's another chappie! Enjoy!  
  
  
*asp: YaaaY, Race and Becca, Race and Becca! *innocent look* Way to get reviews?!   
Whatever are you talking about?? *giggles* It was all for the benefit of Jacky-boy of  
course! Muahaha. Fun times!! Thanks for the support! Here's another chappie!   
  
  
*Skittles: Here's your shoutout, Kiddo! Don't cry, awww. : ) New reviewers rule!!  
w00t w00t! OOO, I've been wanting to see Black Hawk Down for a while now!! I have it  
somewhere in this mudpile of a room, lol, and I have yet to see it!! Josh Hartnett is  
my bebe! Heehee. So, ya don't think Spot should get left out, eh? Hmmm, I'll take that  
into consideration, but there's a big lesson he'll have to learn in this story first.  
Thanks so much for the review!!! I'm glad you're enjoying the story so far!  
  
  
*Angel: Heya, I would LOVE to be incorporated into your story!! Muahaha. Email me what  
you need to know and I'll get back to you as soon as I can! Twists and turns, twists  
and turns, don't ya just love it? *giggles* Great stuff, I tell ya. So anywho, you're  
so sure Race and Becca will end up together, hmmm? We'll just see about that! Muahaha.  
Alright, I won't be an evil author and ruin their lives. Maybe they'll end up together  
afterall. : ) Can't wait for more of your fic!  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Just A Little Bet  
  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~ "Aint ya gunna take ya hat off tah show respect tah a goil?" Vixen wasn't  
  
too pleased to be interrupted at the moment, mostly because she had been busy giving  
  
Spot Conlon yet another hickey when his annoying self-absorbed cousin had walked into  
  
the room and declared that she give the both of them a moment to speak.   
  
  
  
  
The boy smiled sardonically. "I'se aint see no goils heah." Out of all the ladies Spot  
  
played, Runner hated Vixen the most. She was a gorgeous whiner, nothing more and nothing  
  
less, and he had a feeling she would grow up to be a fat, grumpy old hag someday or a   
  
vain superficial idiot who would endlessly chase after lust and material objects.   
  
  
  
  
Vixen glared at him and layed her head on Spot's chest, looking up into his eyes. "Spotty,  
  
ya aint gunna let 'im talk tah me like that, are ya?" She slid her hands under his shirt  
  
and gave him her sweetest smile.   
  
  
  
  
"Runnah, I'se kinda in the middle a' somethin' heah, can ya come back latah?" Spot wrapped  
  
his arms around Vixen's waist and pulled her closer up against him.  
  
  
  
  
"No, I can't! I'se shoah the slut can come back any other time she wants tah. This is   
  
important, tell 'er tah go!"  
  
  
  
  
"Ya lil' shit!" The girl turned around in Spot's arms and stepped forward. "Just 'cause  
  
youse aint got no goil tah give ya any don't me ya gotta be bargin' in on ya cousin!"  
  
  
  
  
"Shut the fuck up!"  
  
  
  
  
Vixen gasped and looked back at Spot for support. "Aint ya gunna soak 'im?"  
  
  
  
  
"Vix, gimme a minute wid 'im and I promise youse won't heah that outta 'is mouth again,  
  
alright?" He kissed her hard, and then showed her out into the hallway where he told   
  
her to wait. After seeing to it that she was not in the least bit disappointed enough to   
  
deny him her company later in the night, he returned to his room, closing the door gently   
  
behind him only because he did not want to lose his cool in front of a girl, and leaned   
  
against the wood in thought.  
  
  
  
  
Runner laughed. "Ya gotta take me seriously when I say this. Youse really gotta..." He  
  
didn't get to finish.   
  
  
  
  
Spot grabbed him by the front of his shirt, raised him off the ground an inch or so, and  
  
slammed him against a wall with the acidic viciousness he was known for. "The next time  
  
youse decide ya wanna parade wid one of me goils, let me it on it, huh? It aint really  
  
one of me favorite things tah find out me own cousin's been doing things behind my back  
  
in front of all me friends! Another thing, the next time youse walk in heah and interrupt  
  
me and some goil, I'll personally see to it that youse gets every bone in ya body   
  
fractured! Is we'se clear on that?"  
  
  
  
  
"Crystal," Runner replied through clenched teeth, and when Spot let him go, he was only  
  
angrier than when he had first come in. The attack was so sudden he hadn't even time to  
  
devise a clever comeback, not that he would want to, seeing it would only end in his  
  
getting beaten to a bloody pulp. "Listen," he said slowly, trying to control the waver in  
  
his voice, "I'se need tah ask ya a favor."  
  
  
  
  
"What?"  
  
  
  
  
"I needs youse tah end that whole bet between youse and the other guys."  
  
  
  
  
Spot looked at him as if it was blasphemous to ask such a request. "Are ya insane!? Ya  
  
know how much money I'se gots goin' fer me if I win this damn thing?! Please don't tell  
  
me ya fell fer the goil after meetin' her fer the foist time!" He spoke calmly now, as  
  
if the events that had occured mere seconds ago had never taken place.  
  
  
  
  
"But think of what youse is gunna do tah her," the younger pleaded. "Ya gunna break her  
  
heart real bad when she finds out! I mean, not that I care or anything, it's just  
  
that I'd hate tah see such a nice goil get hoit like that!"  
  
  
  
  
"Ya never did go for the nice ones, Runnah, what do youse care? And 'sides, I'se done  
  
woise tah goils before. Why should this be any different?"  
  
  
  
  
Runner sighed. "Please drop the bet!"  
  
  
  
  
"No." Spot sat on his bed and stared at him, waiting to hear the real reason why he   
  
wanted the bet to end. "Ya shoah youse don't like 'er? 'Cause yesterday ya looked like  
  
youse were about tah kiss the ground she was walkin' on!"  
  
  
  
  
"Ah, shaddup!"  
  
  
  
  
The Brooklyn leader laughed. "So Runnah, I aint droppin' the bet. Is that all ya wanted  
  
tah ask?"  
  
  
  
  
"Couldn't youse just let this one go?" Runner rested his forehead against the glass  
  
pane of Spot's window and watched newsies on the piers jumping into the waters and  
  
playing pranks on each other. When his cousin answered no again, he groaned. How else  
  
could he get to Mallory if those three were in the way? Then it hit him. "Well, d'ya   
  
think youse could include me in the bet then?"  
  
  
  
  
Spot arched an eyebrow. "Mmm, I'se gunna have tah pass on that one."  
  
  
  
  
"Why, youse afraid I'se gunna beat ya?"  
  
  
  
  
"Nah, I'se afraid I'll steal ya lil' goil and break ya lil' heart."  
  
  
  
  
Runner couldn't think of a time when he hated Spot more than he did now.  
  
  
  
  
* * * * *   
  
  
  
  
Snap flipped the coin in the air, caught it, and then slapped it onto the back of one  
  
of her hands rather machine-like. Slowly uncovering the coin, she laughed at the results  
  
and smiled up at Jack. "Ha! Heads! I get tah pick where we'se go!"  
  
  
  
  
"I still thinks youse rigged the toss," Jack said as he slid his arm around her waist  
  
and grinned down at her. "So where does the lovely goil wanna go?"  
  
  
  
  
"I hoid some of the boys talkin' about some place called Medda's?"  
  
  
  
  
He nodded. "Irving Hall, great place. But youse aint wanna go there fer our foist date,  
  
do ya? It's always too crowded and it won't give us space tah do our own thing if ya  
  
know what I mean." He winked at her as she smacked his arm for the spicy comment, but  
  
inside he was thinking about his true intentions of wanting to go somewhere else. Spot  
  
would undoubtedly be at Medda's and the Brooklyn leader obviously had it bad for Snap.  
  
He hated it when a girl never fell for his seduction spells and he wouldn't stop at  
  
nothing until he had had her for a night. But if Jack started to date Snap, it would only  
  
spell even more trouble when Spot's jealousy entered the equation.  
  
  
  
  
"Why do we'se gots tah be alone? Ya act as if youse don't want people tah know about us!"  
  
Snap turned to face him and took his hands off her. "So ya want us tah get tah know  
  
eachother better foist 'fore we'se become a couple, I'se cool wid that. But if ya don't  
  
ever wanna take me out, what's the point?" She hated coyness in men, it only enlivened  
  
their weaknesses and kept them from doing all that they wanted to do. No, she preferred  
  
the go-getters, the ones who never let anything keep them down. Like Spot.  
  
  
  
  
"I just thought we'd go somewhere more private, so that we'se could talk one on one."  
  
  
  
  
"Or do ya mean, somewhere where I'se can't embarass youse?!"  
  
  
  
  
Jack shook his head and took her hands. "No, not at all. Why would I'se be afraid of  
  
youse embarassin' me? Ya never done it before, why should I think youse'd do it now?  
  
If ya wanna go tah Irving Hall, we'll go then. I'se just thought you'd like it bettah  
  
at a nice restaurant or somehtin'."  
  
  
  
  
"I'se never seen Medda before," she replied. "I'd really like tah see what all the fuss  
  
is about. 'Sides, it should be fun, so long as youse promise me the last dance."  
  
  
  
  
He gave her a soft kiss. "Well who else would it go to?"  
  
  
  
  
* * * * *   
  
  
  
  
Mallory yelped when the needle she was currently using to mend a pair of socks poked her  
  
finger and drew a speck of blood. "Blasted thing!" She plunged the silver object into a  
  
plush ball and used the end of her skirt to wipe the blood. "Leave it to me to be a  
  
disgrace to the sewing population of New York women!" A knock on the front door brought  
  
her out of her complaints and she rose from the couch to answer it.   
  
  
  
  
"One minute!" she called out from the sitting room, setting away her sewing kit and   
  
leaving the socks she had tried to make new to the trash, as she had only managed in  
  
worsening their condition. She grabbed the doorknob, forgetting to look through the  
  
peephole first, and swung the door open. "Good Morni...ugh, Spot! What are you doing   
  
here!?" She motioned for him to enter and shut the door with a pout. It seemed as if  
  
the Brooklyn leader always arrived at her house when she was in sour moods.  
  
  
  
  
"Nice tah see youse too, Mal. How's ya dad holdin' up?"  
  
  
  
  
Mallory glared at the nickname and proceeded to walk towards the kitchen. "He's fine,  
  
thank you. Getting much needed rest has done him well and he has another doctor visit  
  
tomorrow. Would you like something to drink?"  
  
  
  
  
"Nah, I'se fine." He took off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair, combing back  
  
the strands that had fallen over his eyes. "So did ya like the play?"  
  
  
  
  
"As much as I would like to say no, I actually did. The acting was phenomenal!" She  
  
poured herself a glass of lemonade and smiled. "It's amazing the script was written by  
  
your cousin! He definitely has the gift of writing."  
  
  
  
  
Spot nodded. "Well I'se glad youse enjoyed it."  
  
  
  
  
"Although I didn't appreciate you holding my hand througout the whole thing despite my  
  
specific demands for you to stop!"  
  
  
  
  
"I was cold," he said with a shrug, "and ya hand was so warm." He entered into the   
  
kitchen and ran his fingers over the polished counter top, remembering the warmth and   
  
feeling of belonging he had once known in his own home. "So ya wanna go fer a walk wid  
  
me in Central Park?"  
  
  
  
  
Mallory opened her mouth to reply, but quickly closed it. It was becoming a bother to  
  
constantly refuse Spot's invitations. Frankly, she found that she enjoyed his company.  
  
He wasn't as disgusting a pig as the rumors dictated; in her opinion, he was as sweet  
  
as they came, and more funner if she had anything to say about it. Back in the 1880's,  
  
an aunt of hers was forced into an arranged marriage and the man she was to marry was of  
  
the most boring species of human ever born into the world. "I won't be able to stay out  
  
long, my father will be awakening from his afternoon nap in an hour."  
  
  
  
  
Spot looked at her in surprise, but quickly brushed it off. "Great, we'll be back by   
  
then if we'se leave now. Put on a jacket and let's go!" He wanted to hurry before she  
  
changed her mind of a sudden so he grabbed her hand and pulled her to the door, ripping  
  
her sweater off a coat rack on his way out.  
  
  
  
  
"Wait! I need my hat!" She turned to get it but Spot would not let his grip on her loosen.  
  
"Spot, I'm not going without a hat, it's freezing outside!"  
  
  
  
  
"Heah, youse can have mines." He handed over his hat and smirked at the appalled look  
  
on her face. "It aint got no fleas, darlin'."  
  
  
  
  
"Oh! I didn't think it did, I was just..."  
  
  
  
  
"Uh-huh, yea." He openned the door and pulled her out after him. Considering they only  
  
had an hour to work with, he was afraid that as soon as they arrived at the park, they  
  
would have to leave. It was quite a walk from her house, and though Spot offered various  
  
topics of conversation, the girl's mind seemed to be elsewhere. He noticed that everytime  
  
one from her class passed by, she would divert her gaze down to the sidewalk on instinct,  
  
as if ashamed to acknowledge her association with a newsboy. "Mal, youse aint gots tah  
  
come wid me if ya don't wanna. I'se shoah youse gots ya goody-goody reputation tah look  
  
out for."  
  
  
  
  
She frowned. "Oh Spot, I apologize if you thought I was embarassed of you! If you'd   
  
like to know, I was only trying to avoid Mrs. Papernick's spread of gossip.  
  
I knew that if she or her friends saw me in your hat, they'd be led to believe that  
  
because of an insufficient flow of money, I'd been force to peddle papers! Or imagine,  
  
they might've thougt I was selling myself off to any young man that passed by!"  
  
  
  
  
"People is always goin' tah gossip 'bout youse whether ya like it or not. Look, there's  
  
the park!" He took her hand, but she snatched it away.  
  
  
  
  
"I'm capable of escorting myself into Central Park, thank you!" Ignoring his smirk, she  
  
marched past him with head held high and gasped at the sights before her. It was even  
  
better than Sheepshead! There were children dashing around the fields with kites, others  
  
climbing trees or wading in the waters of a fountain while mothers looked on from the  
  
benches where they socialized with friends and fathers played chess with old comrades.  
  
Some youth busied themselves with playing pirates on the huge boughs of oak trees, and  
  
still more were content with playing marbles on the sidewalks. There were clowns in  
  
bright makeup juggling, telling jokes, and performing tricks that left their audiences  
  
dazed with amazement, newsies hawking headlines, vendors selling everything from popcorn  
  
to cotton candy, and a group of men playing southern instruments that gave off lively  
  
and upbeat melodies.  
  
  
  
  
Spot came up from behind Mallory and laughed. "Ya act like youse aint never seen anything  
  
like this."  
  
  
  
  
"I haven't!"  
  
  
  
  
"Then let's sit over heah where youse can get a better view a' the place." He would have  
  
simply led her to the bench but she reached out for his hand then, afraid of getting  
  
lost in the happy riot, and he gladly took it, lacing his fingers with hers. "Isn't  
  
this place great? I come heah all the time when I'se gets a chance, tah take a break  
  
from the woild."  
  
  
  
  
Mallory stared off ahead of her, trying to take everything in at once. It was as if  
  
an immense festivity was being celebrated in which all walks of life were invited! At  
  
this moment, she realized she was still holding Spot's hand, yet for some reason, she  
  
did not want to let it go. She wrestled with this feeling as he continued talking.  
  
  
  
  
"If ya want, we'se can come back more often. Maybe once or twice a week, it kinda gets  
  
borin' if youse go all the time. Are ya free tomorrow night?"  
  
  
  
  
She looked at him confused. "What?"  
  
  
  
  
"Did ya heah anything of what I just said?"  
  
  
  
  
"I'm really sorry, Spot. I was busy thinking why I hadn't seen this place before. I  
  
might've visited once or twice in my childhood, but why haven't I been back since?"  
  
  
  
  
The Brooklyn leader scooted closer to her with a twinkle in his eyes. "Come wid me tah  
  
Medda's tomorrow."  
  
  
  
  
"Who's Medda?" She scolded herself, why was she even asking? She couldn't go, she had  
  
her father to worry about! "Wait, it doesn't matter, I can't."  
  
  
  
  
"Why not?" He looked disappointed.  
  
  
  
  
Mallory sighed and took her hand away. She knew this was a mistake. "Spot, it's been  
  
a wonderful day and I loved this little walk, but I should be getting back home now.  
  
I will not be going to Medda's with you tomorrow, whoever that is, and I wish that you  
  
would discontinue visiting me unexpectedly." She stood up, nodded at him, and began to  
  
turn away.  
  
  
  
  
"Wait!" He stood to his feet to pull her back. "If youse have a good time wid me, why  
  
are ya denying yaself the fun?" As she parted her lips to answer, he acted on impulse  
  
and leaned in for a kiss, deepening it as the seconds passed since she made no clear  
  
signs that she wanted him to stop. Her lips were soft, unlike those of his usual flings  
  
and the taste of her mouth was sweet and spell-binding. He was reluctant to pull away for  
  
it shocked him that he had gotten this far with her, but when he finally did, he saw that  
  
she was speechless. That signature smirk his admirers were in love with appeared on his  
  
face. "Did that make ya change ya mind?"  
  
  
  
  
"I can't believe you did that! How rude! And in front of all these people!" She pushed  
  
him away and turned on her heels, hurrying away from him.  
  
  
  
  
"Mallory! Wait up!" He ran after her, once tripping over the wheel of a vending cart and  
  
almost tumbling down, and eventually caught up with the girl just outside one of Central  
  
Park's many entrances. "I'se sorry, I thought ya wouldn't mind! Okay, I knew youse would  
  
mind but I thought I'd give it a try anyways. Why are ya so mad?"  
  
  
  
  
"That was my first kiss!" she yelled back. "I wanted it to be with someone I really  
  
cared about! Not to say I don't care about you, it's only that I was hoping it would  
  
be something more than that, something heartfelt."  
  
  
  
  
He nodded in understanding. "Ya wanna give it another go?" She nearly screamed. "Okay,  
  
I'se sorry. But whaddya expect, youse a beautiful goil and I couldn't help myself. Mal,  
  
ya gotta give things a chance, seize the day, ya know? Ya might latah regret not havin'  
  
done somethin'. So heah me out, from now on I won't do anything without ya permission,  
  
agreed? But youse gotta promise me somehtin'. Come wid me tah Medda's tomorrow. There'll  
  
be music and dancin' and most of the newsies from all over New Yawk is gunna be there."  
  
  
  
  
"I don't know," she said slowly. "I don't trust you."  
  
  
  
  
He pretended to be hurt. "Ouch, that hoits, goil. That hoits!"  
  
  
  
  
"You promise you won't disprespect me in any way?"  
  
  
  
  
"Unless ya want me to." He laughed at her glare. "I promise, Mal!"  
  
  
  
  
Mallory wasn't sure whether she could take his word or not, but she was taking a chance  
  
for once and decided that she could. "Then I'll go with you."  
  
  
  
  
* * * * *   
  
  
  
  
For Lack Of Any Creative Things To say, I'll trust that you all liked this chapter  
enough to leave me a nice lil' REVIEW. REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!!!!  
REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEVIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
PLEASE!?!?!? Ya see, that button down there, the cute purple one? Well, he's sad because  
no one ever clicks him, see? And he's going through this whole state of depression  
and is thinking of commiting suicide, so we thought, What if people started appreciating  
him by applying his uses??? AHA!!! So C'mon, save a fanfiction.net button and submit  
me a REVIEW!!!! 


	9. Love Triangles Made Known

DISCLAIMER: These characters do NOT belong to me unfortunately. I tried to kidnap  
them from Disney and was unsuccessful. Go figure. However, Runner and Mallory are  
MINE, and so is Josephine, Aunt Patricia, and Daisy! Muahahaha! So take that, Mickey!!  
OoOogles! I almost forgot Becca and Snap. They's mine too!! BleH! : ) Ah, the list just  
goes on, there's Mr. Carter too of course. And Vixen...  
  
  
  
A.N. HOLY DUCK!! You guys are professionals at this reviewing thing now!!! WOWZERZ!!  
10 Reviews for that last chapter!!! I'm very very very HAPPY!!!!! THANK YOU!!!!  
A chapter with all the characters in it! Oh NO!! Love Triangles aren't pretty when  
people realize they're being played. *snickers* THANKS AGAIN!!!  
  
~~~LONG CHAPTER AHEAD!!!~~~  
  
  
*Deanie: So many possibilities. : ) I love it too. I haven't even decided who everyone  
will end up with. Heehee. Runner is your favorite!?!? *high fiver!* He's my favorite  
too! Shh, but don't tell Spot that. Ha! Actually, I just like the fact that Runner is  
a goody-goody at church and school, but a hardcore bad@$$ when he's a newsie. lol!  
Thanks for the review! New reviewers rock my socks! w00t w00t! Enjoy this chapter!  
  
  
*Raeghann: No, I don't think you've reviewed this story yet, but I like how your name's  
spelled so it's all good. lol! I'm glad you like this story so much! I love Runner too!  
Hahaha, : ) As I've been telling alotta people, he's my fave. Awww, you want one of  
your own? Haha, hmmm...well, you can kidnap my Runner whenever you want. lol. Ah, you'll  
find out about Runner and Mallory in the next chapter. : ) Thanks for reviewing!  
  
  
*racesgurl52787: w00t w00t! Race! Race is one of my favorite newsies, I just love his  
lil' dance in King Of New York ontop the table. *sigh* Well, ya asked for more Race,  
here's more Race! A whole section with him! YaaaY! OoOgles, and I'll put your story  
on my 'To Read' list. : ) Thanks for reviewing!  
  
  
*Trek: As a matter of fact, Spot could probably get even more adorable. : ) I bet he's  
just holding back on us, ya know? Haha. The Conlon charm mustn't stop there!! Ah, Runner  
and Mallory. Heeheehee. We'll find out more about that case in the next chapter. But   
lookie, everyone's going to Medda's! Spot + Snap + Mallory + vixen + Jack = Trouble!!  
  
  
*SportyChik425: Concerning Runner's name, wow, I never even realized his name fit because  
he was always running into Spot. lol! That's majorly cool! Actually, you'll find out the  
real reason behind his name in a later chapter. But I'll add that into the equation! Ha,  
running in on Spot, love it! Jack and Snap, ohhh, there's quite a scene with them in  
this chapter. : )   
  
  
*bl33ding p03t: Ha! Thanks! Short and sweet, gotta love your reviews! : )  
  
  
*Angel: OoOogles, Spot is a sext beast! Muahaha. I would probably melt into a puddle  
of goo if I ever knew him. lol. I'm confused about hooking everyone up too! Hahaha.  
I had originally planned an ending for this, but I might have to change it around.  
Speaking of hooking up, I was just thinking how in the world is Hermione going to stop  
hating Spot! I must know! Write more soon!  
  
  
*Drama-Queen: Haha, everyone wants to know how Runner knows Mallory. I was almost  
persuaded to include the scene that reveals that in this chapter, but I decided it would  
work best in the next one. So patience, don't soak me! : ) I'll write as fast as me  
wee lil' fingers can type. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
  
*Snuggles: Yes, Spot is good at finding dark corners...heehee. OOO, Happy Birthday!!!  
16 or 17?? w00t w00t! Go Amy! Eric is single, nice. Real nice. I hope you'll start  
talking to him soon, hmmmm??? Muaha! O goodness...who wears a dress when its freezing!?  
I'm tellin' ya, ya gotta steal Brian back. : ) Glad stopped by your house, btw. Haha.  
Erk, the Brunette-wannabe was at that church thingy? *shivers* That's freaky. She's  
officially a stalker. Haha. At least Brain doesn't appear to be into her I guess. Ya  
know, I think I'm going to give up on Andres, he doesn't want a relationship. *rolls eyes*  
Guys these days. Grrr. Hopefully things are going better on your side of the fence. : )  
Happy Birthday Again!!!  
  
  
*Shortie: Mallory doesn't deserve Runner? Hahaha. *sniff* Do I smell...jealousy? : )  
OoOogles, a driving test? WowZerZ, I still haven't taken mines. I think I will over  
spring break or something. Even though its late, Runner says 'good luck'. Yea, Snap  
has a lil' tricky in store for Jacky Boy. What?! Jack Jacobs?! You've been studying too  
hard! Muahaha. Watch you crash the car into a cone...tsk tsk tsk. Get that license,  
Shortie! Then you can take Runner for late night cruises, though I don't know how much  
driving will actually be done. : )  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Just A Little Bet  
  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~ Race officially deemed Sundays his favorite days of the week, and probably  
  
the best days in his whole life. On these days, Sheepshead was closed but Becca always  
  
invited the newsie down to the tracks to help her bathe and groom Mr. Webster's horses.  
  
In a way, he knew she only wanted help with the manual labor and he often felt as if  
  
she were putting him to work she was hired to do, but Race cherished the moments  
  
nonetheless; it was all in good humor.   
  
  
  
  
Granting his wish, the girl always wore her hair loose during these times, even when   
  
it was a great hinderance unto her, as the long strands tended to blow into her face and   
  
get in the way of her tasks. And in turn, Race always bought her a complimentary issue  
  
of the morning edition so that she could be up to date with current events of the world.  
  
  
  
  
There were quite a number of moments in which they both would be combing opposite sides  
  
of a horse's mane, stealing glances at eachother every so often and smiling bashfully  
  
when the other caught their gazes. Becca found it an interesting adjustment to adopt  
  
a new friend into her life. She was so use to dealing with animals, never expecting to  
  
be answered when she spoke and never awakening within her a dormant need for human  
  
companionship.   
  
  
  
  
"Jumper's ready fer another rinse," Race said as he patted the horse's soap-covered  
  
side. "And ya better hurry 'cause I'se dont think he's enjoyin' his bath."  
  
  
  
  
Becca laughed and carried two pails of warm water to the horse, where she gently set  
  
them on the soft dirt of Jumper's stall. "One pail should be enough to wash off the suds   
  
on his back."  
  
  
  
  
"Then what's the other one fer?"  
  
  
  
  
"This!" She raised one of the pails over his head, tipped it over, and giggled as the  
  
water rushed out and poured onto Race's surprised face.   
  
  
  
  
He rubbed the droplets out his eyes and combed back his drenched hair, trying to keep  
  
a serious disposition, though his sudden burst of laugh contradicted this. "Ya gunna  
  
get it!" He chased her throughout the stables, never seeming to come even within a  
  
yard of the girl until luck sided with him and in one bound, he had grabbed her around  
  
the waist and tackled her down into a pile of hay at the stable's corner. They landed  
  
softly side by side and reveled in the childish joke.  
  
  
  
  
"That was great!" the girl exclaimed in between giggles. "You weren't expecting a thing!  
  
Bet you didn't think I was capable of pulling that one off, huh?"  
  
  
  
  
Race shook his head and smiled. "Youse is just full a' surprises." Their eyes met and  
  
suddenly they were locked into a confusing stare, neither understanding the feelings  
  
that were passing between them. "Becca..." he paused, unsure of what he was doing, but  
  
driven to do it either way. "Would youse come wid me tah Medda's tonight?"  
  
  
  
  
"I really shouldn't. I've an inventory to go over still, and more chores than just  
  
washing up the horses." She looked away from him and focused on a string of hay.  
  
  
  
  
"Couldn't youse give all those things a rest just fer one night? I mean, it aint everyday  
  
that the newsies gots somethin' special goin' on. I would really like ya tah come."  
  
  
  
  
Her eyes never left the ground. "Why?"  
  
  
  
  
"Cause, well, cause we'se never spend time wid eachother outside the stables. I'se  
  
always gotta come heah tah see youse."  
  
  
  
  
"Well you don't have to come at all if it bothers you so much!" She crawled to her feet  
  
and walked up to Jumper, picking up the pail at his feet to continue rinsing his coat.  
  
  
  
  
Race sighed and stood to his feet. "That's not what I'se meant. It's just that I'se  
  
thought it'd be nice if we get a change in scene once in a while. Not tah say there  
  
aint nothin' romantic about the stables, it's just that we'se always heah, and we'se  
  
always do the same things. Have ya ever gone out just tah dance and meet new people?  
  
It's alotta fun, and I really wanna share it wid youse this time around."  
  
  
  
  
Becca turned to face him. "These are the perimeters of my world, Racetrack. Webster rents  
  
out an apartment for me just across the street. That's all I do, walk from my house  
  
to Sheepshead back to my house again! I don't care to meet new people! What's the use?  
  
They're only going to end up letting me down somewhere down the road. I have all the  
  
best friends I need right here. They don't judge me, they don't force me to do anything,  
  
and they love me unconditionally. I was gambling with fate when I decided to befriend   
  
you, Racetrack. And look, I was disappointed once again, because here you are going off  
  
about how I should change my life!"  
  
  
  
  
"I wasn't tellin' ya tah change anything about ya life! I was only sayin' youse should  
  
give more things a chance. Whaddya gots tah lose?"  
  
  
  
  
"My heart!" She threw Jumper's grooming brush into the now empty pail and unfolded a   
  
towel from atop some crates. "I don't want to go, okay? Can't we just leave it at that?  
  
It was a great day, let's not mess it up."  
  
  
  
  
Race nodded and tried to eradicate the matter from his mind, but everytime he looked  
  
at Becca for the remainder of the hours they shared together that Sunday, he kept  
  
thinking abut her words. Who had disappointed her painstakingly enough to scare her  
  
away from new experiences? Why was she so scared to take a leap of faith? He knew  
  
prying in her business would only madden her, so he decided to wait until a later date.  
  
  
  
  
* * * * *   
  
  
  
  
"Is this seat taken?"  
  
  
  
  
At first, Mallory hadn't even heard the question. She was too busy intertwining her  
  
fingers through the coils of her hair, staring at her reflection through the small  
  
mirror she had brought with her to Medda's. This was actually her first social event,  
  
or at least her first in terms of not being escorted by a parent, and she wasn't quite  
  
sure how she was supposed to look. She knew a ballgown was much too formal, not that she  
  
owned one anyways, but everyday skirts and blouses wouldn't do at all. In the end,  
  
after seeing to it that her father had taken his medication and was peacefully asleep,  
  
she had decided on a gold oriental dress that went well with her complexion. As for  
  
makeup, she wore light blush and varely visible eyeshadow as to not make a dramatic  
  
appearance. But one thing was still missing from the equation to enjoy the night. Where  
  
was Spot?  
  
  
  
  
"Mallory, is someone sittin' heah?"  
  
  
  
  
The girl looked up at last and smiled when she saw the person to be Jack, with Race  
  
behind him. "Oh! I'm so glad you both came, I was afraid I might have to spend the  
  
night alone!" She gave them each a hug and then sat with them at the table she had been  
  
occupying.  
  
  
  
  
"Ya look amazing, sweety." Jack smiled at her, the grin growing wider when she blushed.  
  
  
  
  
Race's eyes were fixed on the performace on stage. A trio of blondes in sequin-covered  
  
blue dresses were singing and dancing, their energy fueled by the excitement of their  
  
audience. Except, Race wasn't taking part in the fun. It was as if he were reflecting  
  
on more important concerns. Mallory noticed this and spoke up about it. "What's wrong?"  
  
She said aside to him, not wanting to draw Jack's attention. "You look saddened."  
  
  
  
  
"Nah, I'se alright." He feigned a smile, but she could see the pain yet linger in his  
  
eyes.  
  
  
  
  
"Race, you can tell me. I promise I won't ever tell anyone. What bothers you?"  
  
  
  
  
He only shook his head. "I'se really aint in no mood tah talk. But heya, don't worry   
  
'bout it. Maybe tomorrow we'se can hang out at ya place and I'll feel bettah." His words  
  
were meant to sound sly, but his monotonous voice ruined the effect. Just as well, he  
  
didn't care. All he could think about was Becca and how she had gotten so offensive by  
  
his debates with her.  
  
  
  
  
"Heya, stop hoggin' all the attention," Jack interrupted. "Mallory, youse wanna dance   
  
wid me?"  
  
  
  
  
"I would love to! But first, excuse me for a moment. I need to refreshen myself in the   
  
ladies' room." She begged their pardon and disappeared into the dancing masses.  
  
  
  
  
Jack clasped his hands behind his head and beamed. "One more point fer the cowboy!" Race  
  
tried to laugh, but it would require him to wipe the frown off his face and his heart  
  
wasn't exactly ready to abandon its sadness yet.  
  
  
  
  
Less than three minutes later, the two boys were joined by a favorite amongst the newsie  
  
scene. "Heya fellahs!" Runner took the cigarette out his mouth to spitshake with them  
  
before seating himself. "What's crackin'?"  
  
  
  
  
"Nothin' woith conversation. By any chance, has youse seen Snap?" The girl had finally   
  
conviced Jack to meet her at Medda's for a date, but as far as he knew, she hadn't   
  
even shown up!  
  
  
  
  
Runner furrowed his forehead. "Who?"  
  
  
  
  
"Snap."  
  
  
  
  
"Who?"  
  
  
  
  
The Manhattan leader groaned with impatience. Either the music about was louder than  
  
he thought or Spot's cousin was going deaf. "Ya know, the goil who kissed the hell  
  
outta youse the other day at me lodgin' house? The anti-social?" Runner looked even more  
  
confused than before. "Ah, figures. A Conlon wouldn't even remember the face of a goil he   
  
slept with nan hour ago!"  
  
  
  
  
"C'mon, at least make it two hours! Ya make us sound like horny dogs." He smirked and  
  
inhaled the fumes of his cigarette. "But on the subject of lookin' fer people, either  
  
of youse seen that goil Mallory?"  
  
  
  
  
"Whaddya want wid her?" Race asked absentmindedly.   
  
  
  
  
"Is that a yes or a no?" Seizing control of the situation seemed to lead Runner more  
  
into an interrogation and he had to find a way to be inconspicous. If Jack or Race  
  
began to have the slightest suspicion of his interest in the girl, they would let Spot  
  
in on it, and that wouldn't lead to a pretty outcome. An explosion of giggles having  
  
caught his ear, he looked back then but saw nothing out of the ordinary, only an assembly  
  
of five or six girls who scanned the crowds as if looking for someone. He thought he  
  
recognized one as Vixen, but turned back to Race before he could fully see her face.  
  
  
  
  
"Vixen, ya gotta be serious wid us! Is youse and Spot really a couple?"  
  
  
  
  
Vixen stuck her bosom out proudly and flaunted the dress she was wearing. "Yea, how  
  
many times do I gotta tell ya goils 'fore youse believe me? We'se spent the whole night  
  
together, why wouldn't we'se be a couple?"  
  
  
  
  
"Well then where is he?" Another girl asked, anxious to finally meet this Spot Conlon  
  
she had heard so much about. Vixen was the only newsgirl amongst them, the others worked  
  
at factory mills, and so was the only one with the possible opportunity of meeting the  
  
so called King of New York. "You've talked endlessly about him but haven't shown us  
  
proof of the relationship!"  
  
  
  
  
"What, ya callin' me a liar now!?" The brunette stared down her friends and then continued  
  
her search for Spot Conlon. He had to be here somewhere! The Brooklyn leader would never  
  
miss a dance at Irving Hall, and besides, he had told Vixen he would be coming. "Wait! I  
  
think I sees him!" She squinted her eyes, trying to make out the figure of the person  
  
who sat between Race and Jack. It certainly looked like Spot, but the way he turned his  
  
hat's front over his ear blocked her from seeing his side profile.  
  
  
  
  
"Well, where is he?"  
  
  
  
  
Vixen thought about it and decided to make the assumption. "That one over there!" She  
  
pointed with a smile. "The one next tah the cowboy. Follow me! I'll introduce youse!"  
  
But as she neared the table, that self confident smile instantly dropped from her face.  
  
Runner turned again at that instant and their eyes caught eachother. "Runnah..." she   
  
whispered under her breath.  
  
  
  
  
The other girls didn't notice her discomfort. "Oh! You're Spot Conlon!? My, Vixen, he's  
  
hotter in person than what the coffee shop gossip describes. Your girlfriend has been  
  
talking about you all day! Spot Conlon this, and Spot Conlon that!" Squeals of laughter.  
  
"You two make the most adorable couple! Vixen, he's so charming!"  
  
  
  
  
"Uhm..." Runner looked from the girls to Vixen and arched an eyebrow.   
  
  
  
  
"Spot, can I talk to you for a minute?" Vixen grabbed Runner's hand, yanked him from his   
  
seat with a force that made his elbow sore, and dragged him across the dining area with an  
  
attitude he didn't understand. "Listen, Runnah. I think youse is a jackass, and youse  
  
thinks I'se a bitch. Let's look beyond all that, huh? I kinda told the goils back there  
  
that youse were Spot, being the blind fool that I is. It wouldn't look too great if  
  
they knew I was mistaken 'cause, well, how often does a goil mistake some scab fer her  
  
boyfriend?"  
  
  
  
  
"Hold up, youse and Spot is goin' out?"  
  
  
  
  
She gave him a stupid look, belittling him for not knowing what she apparently thought  
  
was obvious enough. "So do me the favor, huh? I'se gots me friends over there tah impress."  
  
  
  
  
  
"Forgive me if I'se mistaken," Runner said, "but I kinda missed the part where that's me  
  
problem. Anyways, aint it ya day tah be woikin' at the whorehouse?" He was quick enough  
  
to grab her hand in the air before she slapped him.  
  
  
  
  
"I'll give ya anything youse wants, alright? Just do this fer me? I have no idea where  
  
Spot is and they's already think youse is him. Please?"  
  
  
  
  
He halfsmiled. "Anything I wants? As temptin' as that would be were I into sluts, I'se  
  
gunna have tah decline on account that Spot would kick me ass if he saw me playin' wid  
  
his goil. But being the nice guy I is, I'll overlook the rewards and just do the favor."  
  
  
  
  
"Oh, forgive me fer not worshiping ya kindness." She looked back at her friends and then  
  
returned her eyes to him. "I'se told 'em youse were...I mean, that Spot was always kissin'  
  
me..."  
  
  
  
  
"Ya torturin' me heah."  
  
  
  
  
They joined hands and started walking back to the table. "Just no tongue, alright?"  
  
  
  
  
"That shouldn't be a problem," he whispered into her ear. "I'd sooner stick my tongue..."  
  
And though she wanted to soak him until he was dead when those last words were uttered,  
  
she had to keep the smile stretched upon her lips. Runner laughed and happened to glance  
  
to his right. "Shit!" He pulled his hat farther down his face and hid in the shadows  
  
it cast onto him. Spot was mere yards away from him, flirting with some doll in a  
  
secluded corner. Runner focused straight ahead and prayed that his cousin would not  
  
catch him.  
  
  
  
  
Spot had no intentions of looking at anything else but the sight before him, fortunately.  
  
"So lemme get this straight. That lil' act youse pulled off when we foist talked was just  
  
that. An act?"  
  
  
  
  
"Shoah," Snap replied. "I'se had tah look after me reputation."  
  
  
  
  
"I'se admire that. It sounds like somethin' I would do." He studied her face and let his  
  
eyes gradually fall to the rest of her body.   
  
  
  
  
"Why, Mr. Conlon! It aint an admirable thing tah be starin' at goils!"  
  
  
  
  
Spot smirked and rested his hands on her hips, pulling her close to him. "Depends on  
  
what ya starin' at." Not sure yet whether he could trust her, he stole a kiss from her  
  
and was taken aback when she didn't shove him away as she had done before. "And depends  
  
on what ya see."   
  
  
  
  
Her lipstick had smeared onto his own lips and she smiled at this. "What d'ya see?"  
  
  
  
  
"I see a sexy woman who needs a real man that knows how tah give 'er what she wants." He  
  
kissed her again. "Who knows how tah woik her body." He combed her hair back as she  
  
wrapped her arms around his neck. "Who knows how tah fulfill her fantasies." He barely  
  
had finished the sentence before Snap leaned in for another kiss, parting his lips with  
  
her tongue, moaning into his mouth in hopes that she could drive him crazy with lust.  
  
  
  
  
"Hello Newsies! What's New!?"  
  
  
  
  
Spot opened his eyes, pulling away from Snap. He couldn't see the stage from where he was  
  
but he recognized the voice as that of Medda's. Her appearance meant the main event of  
  
the night was about to begin. "Why don't we'se join the others?"   
  
  
  
  
"No!" She said, a bit too quickly. The Brooklyn leader gave her a funny look. "I want,  
  
I want tah stay heah wid youse!"  
  
  
  
  
Medda went on. "You all look spectacular tonight!" And then she began calling out each  
  
borough's name, so that the newsies representing that territory could roar with pride  
  
and applaud their leader. "Manhattan! Staten Island! The Bronx! Queens! Midtown!  
  
"Brooklyn!" Brooklyn always made the loudest racket, and each of its boys anxiously   
  
looked around in search of their leader but could not find him. Runner wished he   
  
could join his comrades in the fellowship, but Vixen was currently sitting on his lap,  
  
and all he could do was glare at her backside and grumble.   
  
  
  
  
When she and the other girls weren't looking, Race gestured for Runner's attention and  
  
nodded to the back of the room. Runner followed the direction of sight to its end and  
  
realized Mallory was nearing the table. Mouthing thanks to his friend, the young Conlon  
  
gently nudged Vixen off his lap and stood to his feet. "Uh, dollface, I'se gotta go see  
  
about somethin'."  
  
  
  
  
"Well let me go wid youse!"  
  
  
  
  
"No! I mean...uh, I wouldn't want youse tah miss the, uh...Medda's show." The girls cooed  
  
at the consideration and Runner rolled his eyes, allowing himself to be kissed on the  
  
cheek and then hurrying off before Vixen decided to do anything else with him. Now he  
  
could finally be alone with Mallory. He sighed. Knowing she was in the same room as him  
  
was enough to make his heartbeat quicken. He still thought it a miracle that they had  
  
been reunited after so long a time.  
  
  
  
  
"Runnah!"  
  
  
  
  
The boy turned around at Jack's voice. "Those goils is scarin' me. I left Race there  
  
cause I thought they's could cheer 'im up, but I just couldn't take it anymore! I felt  
  
like I was receivin' a preview of hell!"  
  
  
  
  
"Ya tellin' me!" Runner laughed. "Heya, come join me fer a few drinks?"  
  
  
  
  
Jack nodded. "Shoah." They started for the bar when a couple accidentally bumped into  
  
the Manhattan leader's side. "Heya, watch where youse is goin'!" He would have put the  
  
two in their place, but their identities froze his actions. "Spot?" A long pause passed.  
  
"Snap?"  
  
  
  
  
"Jacky-boy!" Spot made his arm comfortable on Snap's shoulders and smirked. "Me and   
  
Manhattan's thorn finally got acquianted!" He turned the girl's face and kissed her  
  
in front of his friend, unaware of the ties Jack and Snap had made the day before.  
  
  
  
  
"Snap, what the hell is goin' on?!"  
  
  
  
  
"Jack, I just had a change of heart. Spot kissed me and I'se..."  
  
  
  
  
"Youse kissed her!?" The Manhattan leader's face reddened with anger. "How could ya  
  
do that tah me, Spot?! I thought we'se were friends! Ya joik! Ya think youse can play  
  
every goil that walks under ya roof and then have the audacity tah come tah me place  
  
and steal me own goil!?"  
  
  
  
  
Spot was beyond lost, but before he could request a clarification, Snap stepped forward.  
  
"Jack, I aint ya goil! Remember, we'se agreed we'se would talk foist? It aint me fault  
  
youse were afraid tah make a move!"  
  
  
  
  
"Wait a damn minute," Spot raised his voice. "What the hell is I'se missin' heah!? Jack,  
  
what's ya problem? Ya jealous youse can't win over a goil as fast as I can?"  
  
  
  
  
Runner slowly backed away, not wanting any part in the whole confusion. But as bad luck  
  
would have it, someone from behind pushed him forward and yelled at him. "Runnah, youse  
  
done seein' whatever the hell youse came tah see?!" It was Vixen. Things just seemed to  
  
be getting worse.  
  
  
  
  
She looked past Runner and upon seeing another girl all over Spot, she shrieked with  
  
dread and marched forth. "Spot, what is that tramp doing!?"  
  
  
  
  
"I am lost!" One of Vixen's friends exclaimed. "If he's Spot, then why was this young man   
  
making out with you at the dining area?"   
  
  
  
  
Runner's eyes widened at the question. Leave it to one of those clueless broads to add  
  
the final blow to the situation. "Uh, Spot, it aint what youse thinks it is."  
  
  
  
  
"Then what exactly is it, huh? D'ya have a death wish or somethin'?!"  
  
  
  
  
Jack stepped in. "Like youse should talk, Spot. Get ya doity hands off me goil!!"  
  
  
  
  
"She aint yours so long as she's in MY bed!!"  
  
  
  
  
And in less than a second, the small crowd became a rioutous disorder of thrown punches  
  
and kicks, fearsome yells and jealous screams. Runner was smart enough to stand aside  
  
and simply watch. He shook his head and laughed, wishing he had a cigarette to smoke as  
  
his eyes took in all the events of the fight. Vixen had made him put out the last cigarette  
  
for fear that he would burn her. If only he could burn her! Ah well, he thought, hell  
  
will take care of that for her.  
  
  
  
  
More and more newsies began to join the sidelines of the fight, rooting the  
  
leaders on and delighting in the mayhem. That's when Runner saw her again. Mallory. She  
  
had been sitting on a table top the whole time, crying all the tears out of her eyes.  
  
He didn't understand her pain, however, or why it would distress her. Until it dawned  
  
on him. Spot had caught her fancy, and seeing him with two other girls had ruptured her  
  
emotions. As she slid off the table and landed on her feet, he felt magnetized to her and  
  
couldn't see her go so sadly without consolation.   
  
  
  
  
Mallory was none the wiser. So Spot had used her only to add her to his vast collection  
  
of prized girls. She might have known were she not so blinded by his kindness. Crying  
  
in public only lowered her self-esteem, and it was late in any case, so she decided it  
  
time to head home. Making her way through the throngs of newsies was the hardest part.  
  
They were so enthralled by the fact that Manhattan and Brooklyn were practically at war  
  
with eachother over a girl that they blocked the exits and slammed into eachother  
  
violently. Mallory thought she would never navigate a safe route out.  
  
  
  
  
To her surprise, and fear, someone beside her grabbed her hand of a sudden and pulled  
  
her through the crowds, dodging this way and that to avoid bringing harm to her, and  
  
finally leading her safely to one of the many exits of Irving Hall. In the dim lighting,  
  
Mallory found herself face to face with a smiling boy. "Lucas!"  
  
  
  
  
"I thought I'd give you a hand back there," he said. "No pun intended."  
  
  
  
  
She had to smile. Even when her world felt like it was crumbling onto her, she had to  
  
give him some form of gratification. "Thank you so much! I appreciate your help." She  
  
pushed open the door and looked outside at the dark streets of Manhattan. "I should get  
  
home before it's much too dark."  
  
  
  
  
Runner followed after her. "I'll walk you. A lady as gorgeous as yourself shouldn't be  
  
walking on her lonesome any time of day. Not everyone in New York has respect in their  
  
face."  
  
  
  
  
"That's polite of you, but I would prefer to be alone."  
  
  
  
  
"Sorry, I can't let that happen," he replied. "If something were to happen to you, I  
  
would take the complete blame."  
  
  
  
  
Mallory sighed. "You needn't do that."  
  
  
  
  
"And you needn't walk alone if I'm here to escort you."   
  
  
  
  
That was enough to quiet her. In fact, she was touched by the boy's willingness, until it  
  
reminded her of the same persistence Spot had shown when courting her. "Lucas, can I  
  
ask you a question concerning your cousin and expect an honest answer?"  
  
  
  
  
"Sure."  
  
  
  
  
"Does he always cheat on girls?"  
  
  
  
  
Runner hesitated to answer. Saying yes would give him a better chance with the girl, but  
  
would one day lead to another one of Spot's rampages and soaking sprees. When he considered  
  
it harder, he realized saying no would probably make Spot even more mad, as the Brooklyn  
  
leader was rather protective of his reputation. "Well, I'll put it like this. He's never  
  
been in a serious longterm relationship, so technically, it's not considered cheating."  
  
  
  
  
"Of all the ones I must fall for," she complained, "it had to be Spot Conlon! Why?!   
  
There's millions of men across the nation, but no, I have to admire the one who plays  
  
with the hearts of girls for sport! I don't understand it and never will! I wish this  
  
feeling would go away." The tears were still marking her face on their vertical pathways  
  
across her skin to the streets below.   
  
  
  
  
"Don't cry, Mallory." He reached over to wipe away the tears, but when she flinched at  
  
his touch, he pulled his hand away. "Sorry."  
  
  
  
  
"No, it's not you. I'm so sorry! But..." her voice choked and she buried her face in her  
  
hands. "I thought he was interested in me!"  
  
  
  
  
Runner gently lifted her chin up with his thumb and looked into her eyes. "Mallory,   
  
don't let any guy ever think you're not worth their time. Spot saw something special in  
  
you, but he was too stupid to chase after it and now it's his lost. Don't cry over him.  
  
As a matter of fact, let me give you some advice. Stay away from Spot Conlon. No matter  
  
how charming he might appear to be, stay away from him. Okay, Mallory?"  
  
  
  
  
"I, I don't know what to say!" She dried her eyes with a handkerchief and smiled sadly.  
  
"Thank you, Lucas. I don't know how I would've coped throughout this night without your  
  
comfort." She embraced him. "I've more crying to do now, if you'll excuse me." She  
  
started up the doorsteps of a victorian house.  
  
  
  
  
Runner hadn't even noticed they had reached her house already. How time passed! As she  
  
passed through the doorway, she looked back at him and bid him a goodnight with a wave  
  
of her hand. "Sweet dreams," he said in return, and while she closed the door shut, he  
  
could have sworn he saw her blush.   
  
  
  
  
* * * * *   
  
  
  
  
*FALLs Out The Chair And Dies From Exhaustion* What A Friggin Long Chapter!!!! That  
definitely deserves like a bucket of reviews, don't ya think? PLease?! *puppy eyes*  
You guys were supier duper great last time with the revews! C'mon, pleeeeeeeease!!?!?!?  
REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!?!?!?!? REVIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEW!!!!!  
More Reviews=Faster Updates!!!! WOOOOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOO!!!!! PLEASE SUBMIT A REVIEW!!!  
Your Review Matters to Me!!! Muaahahaha! love ya all! 


	10. You Don't Remember Me, Do You?

DISCLAIMER: These characters do NOT belong to me unfortunately. I tried to kidnap  
them from Disney and was unsuccessful. Go figure. However, Runner and Mallory are  
MINE, and so is Josephine, Aunt Patricia, and Daisy! Muahahaha! So take that, Mickey!!  
OoOogles! I almost forgot Becca and Snap. They's mine too!! BleH! : ) Ah, the list just  
goes on, there's Mr. Carter too of course. And Vixen...  
  
  
  
A.N. First off, my sympathy goes out to the families who lost loved ones this morning.  
May the victims rest in peace. On a lighter note, THANK YOU THANK YOU for all the  
reviews!!! You goils is the best! I see Runner's fanclub seems to be growing day by day.  
: ) Well, THANKS again and I hope ya'll like this chappie!  
  
  
  
  
*SportyChik425: Yea, mean ol' Spot is a pig. *runs away from Spot* Heehee. I'll have  
you know he's limping from that kick ya gave him. Hahaha. Good job, chica! : ) Awwww,  
Runner and Mallory? *snuggles them* If you thought Becca was mad last chapter, just  
look at her now! THanks for the review!! Hope ya like this chappie!  
  
  
*Deanie: Liking players sucks nickels! *throws a shoe at Spot* But then sometimes there's  
guys like Runner there to cheer you up! : ) Ha, you just wait 'til Jack and Spot start  
getting violent. Tsk tsk tsk, I don't know what to do with those two.   
  
  
  
*Raeghann: No don't stutter! I still have to read your stories! : ) Yaaay, you finally  
find out how Runner knows Mallory now! w00t w00t!! Thanks for the reviews!! Read on and  
enjoy!  
  
  
  
*Trek: Gone to hell in a handbasket? Hmmm, I like it! Muahaha! Is Spot sexy?! Are you  
kidding me!? OF COURSE!! LOL! I was watching Newsies for like, the millionth time  
yesterday, and there I am an inch from the TV screen, worshipping his beauty. lol! I  
like Runner's bad side too, but I'm not sure whether I like it more than his good side.  
*thinks* We shall see.  
  
  
  
*Snuggles: OoO, definitely good sign between you and Eric!! Yum Yum. I think you should  
figure out what's going on between you and Eric and then decided whether you still want  
to pursue Brian or not. Haha! Heya, I'm sorry about the whole thing that happened in Texas,   
especially on your birthday. I hope it didn't ruin your special day. : ( Dun be sad.   
  
  
  
*newsietomboy: Here's another update, goily! Yea, Runner is a sweetcake. Heehee. *dodges  
Runner's punch* Glad ya liked the chapter, hope you like this one too!! : )  
  
  
  
*Candi Kane: Oh jeez, I just love the expressions my reviewers use. Totally Jazzed?  
I love that! hahaha! Alright, I won't die from exhaustion. *sigh* lol, : )  
  
  
  
*Apollonia: Turn over a leaf, how cute! I've never heard that expression before! I think  
I'm going to use it for something...I just don't know what yet! : ) Oh my, I still  
have to read more of the new chapters you've updated! I hope nothing happened to Spot.  
*runs away crying* Thanks for the review! Hope ya like this chapter!  
  
  
  
*Shortie: YaaaaY, Shortie passed her driving test! CongraTz, kiddo. Now you can save us  
all from Runner's wrath. : ) Oh dear, don't tell me you're attacking Becca now. LoL!  
That's not pretty, she has horses and she can send them to stampede on you. Muahaha.  
Yea, Runner likes to copy the lines of Super Heroes. I told him it was a bad habit but  
he just flicked me off. *frowns* Own hell, eh? What's the rent cost these days? I think  
I'm sending your dear lover boy there. Heehee. More Runner sweetness coming atchya!  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Just A Little Bet  
  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~ "Have I quite the surprise for you!" It was the third time Mallory had said  
  
that to Race and he still had no idea what secret she could possibly be hiding from  
  
him. All he knew was that the girl had evidently planned out their entire afternoon and  
  
could barely contain her building excitement. "We're almost there!"  
  
  
  
  
Race recognized the streets they were traversing; it was the same path he walked on his  
  
daily swings to Sheepshead, and that fact worried him. With him and Becca having recently  
  
disputed with one another over trust, it wouldn't be wise for the Italian to drop by  
  
with another doll on his arm. "Would youse just tell me wheah we'se goin'?"  
  
  
  
  
"A friend of my father's came over last afternoon and presented these to me." From the  
  
pocket of her light sweater she took out two slips of paper and waved them before his  
  
face with a smile.   
  
  
  
  
"What are they?" He reached for them, but she pulled them away and giggled at his  
  
disappointment.   
  
  
  
  
"Patience is an admirable attribute," she said as they turned one last corner and finally  
  
came onto the street where Sheepshead was located, admiring the spectacle that it was.  
  
"You're really going to love this treat, Race!"  
  
  
  
  
If this 'treat' had anything to do with entering into that building, he strongly doubted   
  
her statement. "Well, are ya gunna tell me what those papes is now?"  
  
  
  
  
Mallory nearly squealed. "They're VIP tickets to watch the races right alongside the   
  
journalist crews and camera men! And because of their value, we have the opportunity to   
  
meet the jockeys after each event! Isn't that exciting?" But when his expression hadn't   
  
changed, she was under the impression that not even someone suddenly telling the boy   
  
he was the inheritor of a multi-million dollar fortune could sway his moods. "Race,   
  
why aren't you being your usual merry self? I thought you would enjoy this."  
  
  
  
  
"Ya didn't buy these tickets, did youse?" Special passes like the ones in her hand ran  
  
a good thirty to fourty dollars and he could never turn down her invitation if she had  
  
spent so much to enliven his day.  
  
  
  
  
"Of course not! A friend of my father's visited us last afternoon and presented them to  
  
me when I told him of the sites I had visited within the past months. Naturally, the  
  
most exciting parts occured in the past days with you, Jack, and Spot..." she looked  
  
away from him when saying the Brooklyn leader's name, not wanting him to know she was  
  
still hurt by Spot's actions at Irving Hall. "In any case, when I told him about you  
  
and how you adored watching the horses and sometimes placing bets, he gave these to me.  
  
He's one of the many managers at the tracks, mind you, so it was no expense to him either."  
  
  
  
  
Race took her hands in his and spoke softly to her. "Listen Mallory, I thank ya for ya  
  
consideration, it's real sweet of youse tah do this fer me. But I can't go, it's more  
  
like I'se gots a lil' problem wid one of the locals there and I aint wanna start no  
  
fights."  
  
  
  
  
"Oh pooh!" She freed herself from his grasp. "How you worry! When first we met, you were  
  
lecturing to me about needing to become more carefree, yet here you're afraid to take   
  
advantage of this gift!" She was acting childishly, she admited as much. When she crossed  
  
her arms and pouted, she felt like a five year old again demanding cookies from a jar  
  
her hands could not reach. But Race was acting so strange and the cause was beyond her.  
  
  
  
  
"I aint goin', alright? I'se, uh, I'se has a headache and it aint gunna do me no good  
  
tah heah a bunch of people screamin' at the top of their lungs. We'll go some other time,  
  
okay? I'se promise."  
  
  
  
  
However, Spot had made a promise to her as well, only to end up breaking her heart in a  
  
vulgar manner and she wasn't going to let this easily slip by. Grabbing the sleeve of his  
  
shirt, she dragged him across the way as she stomped off, seemingly meaning to have him  
  
run over by a passing horse carriage if he didn't know any better.   
  
  
  
  
"Mallory, what is youse doin'?"  
  
  
  
  
She turned on him. "My father had another doctor's appointment today and I need something  
  
to distract my mind from the reality of his poor health. Before I met you and the others,  
  
all I would do is sit about and cry all day over his conditions, but I honestly think  
  
we being friends was predetermined. Now I have companions with whom I can spend my lonely  
  
hours with. You aren't going to deprive me of that, are you?"  
  
  
  
  
And there it was again, though unexpected. That guilt trip the girl always created to  
  
bring her pity and sympathy. Race hated how she acted as if her father were the only man  
  
suffering from physical pain in the whole state of New York, though he knew it must've  
  
been hard for Mallory to deal with it all by herself. She had no mother nor any siblings,  
  
and as he came to this conclusion he realized perhaps it wasn't an act afterall. Maybe  
  
she really did feel alone at times. "Fine! I'll go, but we'se can only stay fer a lil'  
  
while."  
  
  
  
  
"Oh, I'm glad you changed your mind!" She hugged him tight and laughed happily. "You  
  
won't regret this! Why, you'll love it!" She joined her hand with his, glad she wouldn't  
  
have to resolve to her solitude this day.   
  
  
  
  
"Remember, only fer an hour or two." But they didn't even get to spend a minute there,  
  
because as soon as they entered the building, Race stopped short and gasped. "Becca..."  
  
  
  
  
Becca was in as much disbelief as him. She had left the stables for a moment to talk with  
  
Mr. Webster about the Chores List he had written up for her that morning, for there were  
  
much too many tasks on the list that couldn't possibly be achieved in the time he had  
  
alotted her, when she happened to look to her right and catch Racetrack hand in hand  
  
with the brunette she knew as Mallory.   
  
  
  
  
Race saw her anger before it was expressed on her face and rushed to her to explain, but  
  
she was already shaking her head, not wanting to hear his excuses. "What's this all   
  
about? You invited me to some dance, but weren't so quick as to mention that you already  
  
had a dame all over you! You're a dirty liar, Race! I hate you!" He tried to hold her,  
  
but she brought back a clenched fist and threw it into his cheekbone. "Stay away from  
  
me, Race! You said you were different, you liar!"  
  
  
  
  
"Becca, wait! Lemme explain!" With one hand holding his face and another reaching for  
  
the girl, he started forward but was brought to his knees when he tripped over himself.  
  
"Becca!"  
  
  
  
  
Mallory only became more confused as the girl ran off and slammed the door of the  
  
stables behind her. And when she saw Race trail after, she was left to wonder whether   
  
she had been the cause of a fissure in their relationship.  
  
  
  
  
* * * * *   
  
  
  
  
Snap sat on Kloppmann's desk reading today's paper and watching over the cashbox as the  
  
old man prepared himself breakfast in the kitchen. Her hair was pulled back in a messy  
  
ponytail that left selected strands to sweep across her face, her clothes even less  
  
graceful. On her first night of lodging in Manhattan, she only posessed three changes of  
  
clothing and once those raggedy articles had dirtied from a day's work, she was too  
  
lazy to handwash them and so left herself to borrow a shirt and pair of pants from Blink.  
  
  
  
  
  
She would have borrowed an outfit from Jack, but the two weren't particularly on talking  
  
terms at the moment. After last night, the Manhattan leader wouldn't even allow her to  
  
sleep until she had explained what the hell had been going on between her and Spot.   
  
Having no reasonable defense, she played ill and claimed the night's events had taken a   
  
toll on her mental health. Jack didn't buy it, of course, but he knew he wouldn't get  
  
any more out of her and so had left it at that.  
  
  
  
  
She sighed. Each boy had taken the ordeal rather seriously. Jack seemed ready to kill  
  
his best friend and Spot was none the less fierce. It was a good thing Manhattan and  
  
Brooklyn weren't enemies, or at least hadn't been until last night, for the two boroughs  
  
had the potential to wreak misery onto eachother. Misery and Pain.  
  
  
  
  
The front door to the lodging house swung open and Snap wasn't surprised to see the  
  
early return of that one boy who planned on receiving a reason for her betrayal no later  
  
than today. Jack Kelly. She had to admire his persistence, she supposed. "Heya cowboy."  
  
  
  
  
Jack ripped the paper from her hands and pointed a finger in her face. "Ya listen real  
  
hard tah me, Snap, cause I'se aint repeatin' meself no more. Why the hell were youse  
  
swappin' spit wid Spot when youse had told me ya wanted us tah hook up?"  
  
  
  
  
"It's simple, Jack. Youse weren't givin' me what I wanted so I figured the lil' Brooklyn  
  
slut would jump at 'is chance."  
  
  
  
  
"Don't youse have any remorse for what ya did?" He yelled at her. "Don't ya care that  
  
youse cheated on me. It aint the foist time Spot's taken someone's goil, but he aint  
  
never taken mines and that pisses me off!"  
  
  
  
  
She slid off the desk onto her feet and calmly looked him over. He was more angered than  
  
she had thought. This had certainly penetrated the barriers around his heart, that was  
  
for sure. "Don't yell at me then! Damnit, Jack! He obviously aint ya best friend if he's  
  
feelin' me up! But nah, youse take it all out on me, as if I wanted him tah do it!"  
  
  
  
  
"Whaddya talkin' about?"  
  
  
  
  
"I tried to push him away, Jack. I'se told 'im we'se were thinkin' about goin' out and  
  
all, but he just kept comin' onto me. And eventually, he pushed me into a corner of the  
  
room and pressed me against the wall. I'se couldn't break free, and I couldn't scream  
  
'cause that's when he started kissin' me. Once he was done, I told 'im I still had   
  
feelings fer youse, and he told me it weren't no use likin' youse 'cause ya had a  
  
reputation of havin' three goils at once. I didn't wanna believe 'im, but it sounded so  
  
true...so I let 'im have his way."  
  
  
  
  
Jack was speechless. How could Spot say something like that about him? If there were any  
  
newsie in New York who had an infamous reputation of seducing girls only to throw them to  
  
the curb the following day, it was Spot himself! "I would never do that tah youse."  
  
  
  
  
"He kept tellin' me these things over and over," she said, urging herself to start  
  
crying and complimenting herself when she did. "And I just didn't know who tah believe.  
  
I'se was scared and felt trapped and so I gave into him. And I'se so sorry, Jack. Please  
  
don't hate me. I'se so sorry!"  
  
  
  
  
"Aww, Snap. I don't hate youse." He pulled her close to him and rubbed her back, sorry  
  
that had he spoken so rudely to her. She had done nothing wrong! It had all been Spot!  
  
"Heya, why don't we'se start over, huh? Go back tah being friends and woik our way up."  
  
  
  
  
She sniffled and looked up at him. "That sounds great. I really like ya and I didn't  
  
mean tah hoit youse or anything. It was Spot, I think he's jealous and wanted tah break  
  
us up. Ya forgive me?"  
  
  
  
  
"How could I say no?" He smiled at her and hugged her close, not seeing her smirk in  
  
mischief when he closed his eyes.  
  
  
  
  
* * * * *   
  
  
  
  
Runner lay on his back, watching the smoke from his cigarette curl from his mouth and  
  
rise to the air above him where it dissipated into nothingness. "Che sera sera." What  
  
will be shall be, he thought. Mallory had four guys after her, though the intentions and  
  
motives of three of them weren't exactly what one would deem noble. It was up to her to  
  
decide which she would give a chance.   
  
  
  
  
"Lucas, what are you doing?!"  
  
  
  
  
Runner smiled and sat up on his elbows to see Mallory standing in front of him with  
  
an amused look on her face. "I thought I'd catch up on some sleep."  
  
  
  
  
"On my doorstep?!" When he shrugged, she laughed with a shake of her head. "You're an  
  
odd one, Lucas. I don't know whether I should feel honored or stalked. Have you been  
  
waiting here long?"  
  
  
  
  
"Mmm, not really." Two hours and forty three minutes wasn't considerably long. Although  
  
the headmaster at St. John's would probably beg to differ once the truancy of one of  
  
his honor students was discovered. But Runner was a master at finagling his way out of  
  
discipline, especially when he was the head priest's son. "SO where've you been all day?"  
  
  
  
  
Mallory unlocked her door with a bronze key and welcomed the boy inside. "I went to the  
  
tracks earlier with Race, but that proved a mistake and so here I am." She whistled  
  
three notes and smiled when Daisy came trotting into the room with a wagging tail. "Hello  
  
Daisy! How's my cute little puppy?" She kneeled down and combed her fingers through the  
  
dog's fur, laughing when it happily barked.  
  
  
  
  
Runner shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Mind if I have a seat?"  
  
  
  
  
She gave him a curious look. "You don't talk like the others. I've noticed that during  
  
the times we've talked. There's no trace of an accent in your speaking yet your Spot's  
  
cousin and you spend most of your hours with the newsies, am I right? Why is that?"  
  
  
  
  
"I'se could talk like 'em if youse wanted me too," he grinned.  
  
  
  
  
"No, no. I was only asking. Aren't you a newsie yourself though?"  
  
  
  
  
Runner walked over to her and leaned against a wall, slowly sliding himself against it  
  
downwards until he was seated beside her. "Not really. I'm actually a student at some prep   
  
school, but I use to hawk headlines. My newsie name's Runner. You see, when I was around  
  
thirteen, Spot lived with me and my family. But one day, he grew tired of being told  
  
what to do and how to do it so he left and started selling papers for a living. A year  
  
later, he became Brooklyn's leader and when I heard of about it, I envied his carefree  
  
life, so I ran away. Over and over again. No matter how many times my parents found me  
  
I just kept running away, until one day I realized I couldn't keep my future from being  
  
no matter where I went."  
  
  
  
  
"Wow. That's a pretty story." She sat back on her heels and cocked her head to   
  
one side. "You have a good heart, Lucas. I'm glad we met."  
  
  
  
  
"Me too," he whispered back as he stared back at her. She looked so fragile he was afraid  
  
to reach out and touch her for fear she would crumble and break. How could his idiot of  
  
a cousin be so heartless as to willingly break her heart? Her eyes were so warm, and her  
  
lips...he could only imagine how precious they felt. He smirked. "You don't remember me,  
  
do you?"  
  
  
  
  
Mallory wasn't sure what he meant. "Excuse me?"  
  
  
  
  
"Your mother died a little over a year ago."  
  
  
  
  
The following silence spoke for itself. "How do you know that?"  
  
  
  
  
He leaned his head back against the wall and sighed. "I've been an altar boy for six  
  
years now, and I've seen weddings, baptisms, and sadly enough they made me overlook the  
  
funerals too. There was one particular funeral that caught my interest, one being held  
  
for a woman that had perished in a fire. I thought it would be the typical viewing and  
  
mass service, and that they'd make me push the coffin to the awaiting carriage like they  
  
usually did. But I was wrong. People filtered into the church one by one, the women  
  
hysterical with sadness and the men trying to control their wives, typical as I said.   
  
  
  
  
"And then I saw you. You were wearing this black velvet dress and your hair was tied  
  
back under a small hat that I asumed you wore to hide your face. But despite your  
  
tear-stained cheeks and paled lips, you still looked beautiful. You held the aura of a  
  
goddess, and I worshipped your presence that day. I couldn't take my eyes off you, even  
  
when you approached the coffin to say your final goodbyes. I wanted to hold you, to tell  
  
you your mother was in a better place now, but you had left so quickly and when I was  
  
finally relieved from my duties, you were gone.  
  
  
  
  
"I never stopped thinking about you since then. I always hoped you were doing well and  
  
that you would somehow remember me, even though we only exchanged a glance the day of  
  
the funeral."  
  
  
  
  
Mallory was near tears. Hearing a complete stranger reiterate the stages of the funeral  
  
flooded her with too many memories she had refused to live since that day. "I wish you   
  
would've spoken to me that day. I felt as if I didn't have anything to live for anymore.   
  
As if I were better off dead." Her cries turned into sobs and she practically tackled   
  
the boy down in a hug. "It's been so hard. Some nights I would hear my dad cry himself   
  
to sleep and it was enough to make me hate my mother for leaving us behind."  
  
  
  
  
"It was her time to go," Runner whispered into her ear, smelling the perfume of her hair  
  
as he did so. He regretted bringing anything about her past up. He hadn't meant to  
  
ruffle her in any way. But maybe she needed to finally let it all out once and for all.  
  
"Why don't we go for a walk and talk some things over, hmm? It'll help relieve some   
  
stress."  
  
  
  
  
She nodded in agreement and much to his surprise kissed him on the cheek, dampening  
  
it with her tears. "Thank you Lucas for being there for me, then and now."  
  
  
  
  
* * * * *   
  
  
~RaNdOm ThOuGhT but Meaningful Note: Every week, 100 youth commit suicide. It's a scary  
statistic and I just want you all to know that your lives do mean something. So if you  
ever feel like YUCK, feel free to email me if you want to talk to someone about what  
you're going through. I'm here for ya all! : )  
  
  
WOOOOOOOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! Alright, So I told you all how Runner knows Mallory!  
Can I get a few bones for that!??!!? Hmmmmm????? Heeehheee. PLEASE!??!?! Don't think  
this is turning into a sappy romance so soon!!! Yuck yuck, NO NO NO. There's so much   
MORE!!! But c'mon, kiddies, I need some REVIEWS!!! REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!!  
THANKS SO MUCH, Love ya All! 


	11. Another Stranger, Another Mistake

DISCLAIMER: These characters do NOT belong to me unfortunately. I tried to kidnap  
them from Disney and was unsuccessful. Go figure. However, Runner and Mallory are  
MINE, and so is Josephine, Aunt Patricia, and Daisy! Muahahaha! So take that, Mickey!!  
OoOogles! I almost forgot Becca and Snap. They's mine too!! BleH! : ) Ah, the list just  
goes on, there's Mr. Carter too of course. And Vixen...  
  
  
  
A.N. W00t w00t!! THANKS SO MUCH!!! You Goils ROCK my SOCKs!!! So many REVIEWS!!!   
And there were alot of NEW REVIEWERS too! Very Cool!! Honestly, though, THANK YOU!!  
I just LOVE checking my email and seeing so many REVIEW alerts. It's GREAT! w00t!  
Onto Chapter the Next! BTW, the poem in this play is from "The Dream Within" by Lara  
Fabian! Great Song!!! We're SOOOO CLOSE to 100!!! Come on goils, let's break that big  
ol' number in 2 chapters! We'se can do it!!  
  
  
  
  
*SportyChik425: Ya don't like Spot? Hahaha, at least your honest. So do tell me, darlin',  
who is your favorite character? : ) Thanks so much for the review! I hope ya like this  
new chappie!  
  
  
  
*babesthe1: Hmm, you really think Jack and Snap should be together? *thinks* I dunno...  
We'll have to see how they run the course. You might not feel that way after this   
chapter...or any more of the chapters involving Snap for that matter. : ) But I'll  
keep your request in mind in case I end up not liking my storyline. Thanks so much for   
the review!!  
  
  
  
*Rhapsody: w00t w00t! Yet another fan for my boy Runner! You have excellent taste, darlin'  
: ) By the way, I love your name. In one of my original fics, Rhapsody is the name of  
the main character, a Celtic Elemental. But anywho, thanks for the review! I love new  
reviewers!! Hahaha! Hope ya like this chapter!  
  
  
  
*Trek: Pish Posh, I think Snap is getting on everybody's nerves. Especially mines. Players  
are only cool if their names are Spot Conlon, Jack Kelly, or Racetrack Higgins. Oh yes,  
and dear lil' Runner of course. Heehee. Well anywho, sit back, relax, and enjoy chapter  
11!  
  
  
  
*Snuggles: Well, I'm glad your birthday was still fun, I love that build-a-bear place!  
I've built like 3 or 4 bears there. Cowbear named Jack, of course. Hahaha. Yea, you  
can come here and soak SNap anytime you want. She's crazy. Have you talked to ERic yet?  
Heehee!  
  
  
  
*racesgurl52787: Aww, a fellow horse lover. Actually, I've never ridden a horse unless  
you count the pony rides at carnivals. LoL! But I wanna buy a ranch one day and own a  
few. Thanks for reviewing! Enjoy Chapter 11!  
  
  
  
*Lanen: Hahaha, Snap=Evil. She's not neccessarily (did I spell that right?) trying to  
start a War, though I wouldn't be surprised if she did. Heh. Becca's situation is a bit  
more complicated and it might be a while before Race finds out what the deal is, and as  
for Runner and Mallory, well that's only all the more complicated. But I hope ya keep  
reading and reviewing! Hahaha!  
  
  
  
*Apollonia: Heehee, Runner is a sweetheart, no? *huggles Runner* Ah, Snap makes yet  
another appearance in this story and yes, she definitely is quite the player in this  
chapter. Muahaha. Giving the guys a taste of their own medicine. : )  
  
  
  
*Bottles: YaaaY, new Reviewer!!! And guess what, Runner! She says I do a wonderful job  
of complicating everything!! w00t w00t! *dances around her chair* Awww, poor Race indeed.  
But don't worry. Hopefully, he'll win Becca's trust again. Snap? This chapter starts out  
with her. You be the judge of whether she's lying or not. Hahaha. : ) Thanks again!  
  
  
  
*Angel: LoL! WoWzerZ, I never had a reviewer who got so upset because theu forgot to  
review a chappie! It's OKAY! Hahaha! Yea, Snap is a female Dog, no? Well, dear Becca  
was just blwoing off steam, don't worry. She doesn't HATE him or anything...least I don't  
think she does...YaaaY, I'd fall for Runner!! OMG, actually, Runner's character is based  
on this guy in my school...well, his appearance I should say. I actually don't know this  
guy from beans so I couldn't judge whether he's anything like Runner. Ah, enough rambling!  
Onto the next chapter!  
  
  
  
*Drama-Queen: Well I'm Glad that You're glad to have found out now. : ) And don't worry,  
doll, I'll keep writing. : ) Have fun with Chapter 11!  
  
  
  
*Deanie: Yea, Runner is a sweetie when he wants to be. *pinches Runner's cheeks* Thanks  
so much for the reviews!! Hope ya like this chapter! More Runner with his poetic ways!  
Heehee!  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Just A Little Bet  
  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~ Spot sat on a crate with his back against a pier, overlooking his boys as they  
  
spent their lunchbreak enjoying anything but the crude realities of their borough's  
  
realm, forgetting they were newsies for once and taking back the freedom of their  
  
adolescence. Some were gambling on the docks, and others were off with their girls in  
  
a more calm area, but most were taking their chances against the chilly weather as they  
  
swam in the waters below, splashing about like restless children. The Brooklyn leader  
  
shook his head at the immaturity some conveyed, and would have yelled at them were he  
  
in the mood, but the sight of Snap fastly approaching the lodging house with swinging  
  
hips and a self-assured grin returned to him his suave nature.  
  
  
  
  
"Heya, sweetface. Come tah tell me youse involved wid another man?"  
  
  
  
  
"Spot, so me and Jack had somethin' goin' on, alright? But after I'se was wid youse, I  
  
intended on endin' it wid 'im, so why ya gotta be all bitchy 'bout it? If you'd like tah  
  
know, I'se broke it off 'tween us yesterday, so we'se clear." It was a bold move. She knew  
  
the boys were close and that one slip of words from a messenger to another could end her  
  
up in big trouble. But she was willing to take the risk.   
  
  
  
  
He patted his lap, motioning for her to make herself comfortable. "Convince me," he said  
  
simply.  
  
  
  
  
She sat with her back up against his chest and sighed. "I dunno, Spotty. If ya wanna get  
  
some from me, it gotta be more than this one night stand shit. I mean, shoah I'se like  
  
tah fool around and all, but I'd rather settle down wid someone fer once. Ya think youse  
  
the poifect man fer the job?"  
  
  
  
  
"How 'bout we'se go tah me room and find out?" He started to rise but she wouldn't budge  
  
and instead turned around so that she was straddling his lap, her hands now combing  
  
through his hair.   
  
  
  
  
"See, if it was all 'bout that, I wouldn't mind comin' heah every now and then fer a  
  
fling. But Jack was willin' tah gimme a relationship and I won't hesitate tah run back   
  
tah 'im if youse aint that type."  
  
  
  
  
Spot looked at her confused. He wasn't use to the girls asking him for more than a   
  
lust-filled night, because when dawn broke in the morning he was out of his room before  
  
the doll would think the earlier events between her and the Brooklyn leader actually  
  
meant something. "Don't ya think it'd get borin' after the foist few days if youse stick  
  
around fer so long as me goil?"  
  
  
  
  
"Not at all," she replied as she pulled him into a kiss. "I'll make it so that youse  
  
would wish we had met sooner."  
  
  
  
  
"Oh yeah?" Spot raised his eyebrows at that. This would be interesting, he thought. Girls  
  
trying to impress him was nothing new, but Snap wanted to prove that a longterm   
  
relationship between them would be worthwhile and he knew he would have fun with her  
  
all the while. So why not go for it? "So when do we'se start?" He kissed her again,  
  
sliding his tongue over her lips and then pulling away to hear her answer.  
  
  
  
  
"The sooner, the better!" And suddenly she was hoisted into the air as the Brooklyn  
  
leader rose to his feet with her in his arms and carried her to the second floor of the  
  
lodging house where they would remain for the rest of the afternoon.  
  
  
  
  
* * * * *   
  
  
  
  
Father Romanik tried his best to make the early American history lessons as interesting  
  
as humanly possible but the class of students before him only seemed to drift off to  
  
boredom all the more. The youth were either passing letters back and forth, scribbling  
  
illegible sentences into their notebooks, or resting onto their folded arms, developing  
  
red marks on their foreheads. He sighed and focused on the hunched figure of Lucas Conlon  
  
who was obviously busy writing away yet another poem for his creative repetoire.   
  
  
  
  
"Master Conlon, must I order you to pay attention? This is not poetry class and your   
  
being off task is not appreciated!" The man snatched the paper from Runner's desk and in  
  
efforts to embarass the boy as a warning to the others to prevent future disobedience,  
  
he read the poem aloud.  
  
  
  
  
"Free the Dream Within  
The Voices Calling  
A Song, a Prayer  
From Deep Inside You  
To Guide You  
  
"Be the Dream Within  
The Light is shining  
A Flame On The Wind  
Salvation Begins  
  
"Look Beyond  
Where Hearts Can See  
Dream In Peace  
Trust Love....Believe.  
  
  
  
  
"Lucas, this is extraordinary! Is it finished?"  
  
  
  
  
"No sir." He wasn't in the least bit daunted. Try as his teachers did to reprimand the  
  
boy, they only succeeded in favoring him a higher degree than before.   
  
  
  
  
Father Romanik smiled. "Students, this is exactly what I've been telling you about for  
  
weeks now! You've all been blessed with special gifts to use in life that you must apply  
  
whenever you can!" He placed the paper on his own desk and tapped three fingers upon it  
  
in thought. "St. John's will be comprising a scholarship for young people who excel in  
  
both the arts and academics. The scholarship will cover tuition, boarding, and other  
  
student necessities. Our board members have decided to start receiving applications next  
  
week, so be sure to make the young scholars throughout the city aware of this opportunity."  
  
However, he didn't realize beforehand that his students rearely left the campus to mingle  
  
with other youth, as they were usually caught up in their studies or extracurricular  
  
activities even through the weekends.  
  
  
  
  
"May I have my poem returned please?" Runner asked in the most gentlemanly tone.  
  
  
  
  
"Oh no, Master Conlon. I'm sure your father would love to see what his son has been so  
  
diligently working on during class session."  
  
  
  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
  
  
  
"Didn't you know?" Father Romanik smiled. "The church expects the early return of your  
  
father any day now. Apparently, the mission trips went well."  
  
  
  
  
The boy nearly choked. His father wasn't supposed to come back to New York until a month  
  
from now! In his absence, Runner had been able to refrain from the serious over-achieving  
  
attributes the man would order him to maintain and instead had exchanged them for a  
  
laidback relaxed life. But now with his father's return, he would once again have to put  
  
on a venerable air and strive to impress the entire congregation in every possible way.  
  
And that was something he could imagine himself running away from again.  
  
  
  
  
* * * * *   
  
  
  
  
"Darn thing!" Sitting on a three-legged stool, Becca couldn't quite manage to free a  
  
small pebble from one of Jumper's hooves despite her constant maneuvers with the hoof  
  
pick. She threw the silver object down with a loud groan and rested the horse's leg down.  
  
  
  
  
Just then, the door to the stables opened and in walked Mr. Webster in a checkered suit  
  
with a young man behind him. "Becca, I'd like you to meet Charles Hutton. Since you have  
  
so much trouble achieving your time-consuming chores, I've hired some help. He's a   
  
bright lad and should lessen your burden."  
  
  
  
  
He certainly didn't look bright in Becca's opinion, though. With curly hair the color of  
  
her own and attentive hazel eyes, he looked more the part of a snooty arisocrat too  
  
busy scouting out his bride to be than to pay heed to the troubles around him. He was of  
  
medium built, but she doubted he had ever completed hard labor before.  
  
  
  
  
"G'day, miss. How d'ya do?" His accent was the rude mixture of an Irish dialect with a   
  
rough New Yorkan lingo. He held out his hand.  
  
  
  
  
"It's been hell, and you?" She didn't bother wiping her dirty hands on the pants of her  
  
overalls, but he received her handshake anyhow, the smile never leaving his face.  
  
  
  
  
"Heavenly, thanks. Mr. Webster's been telling me about ya love for the horses. I look  
  
forward to working with ye."  
  
  
  
  
"Well then," Mr. Webster said, "I best be on my way. You kids have fun." He tipped his   
  
hat to Becca, nodded to Charles, and showed himself out.  
  
  
  
  
Becca sighed angrily. Her complaints to Webster were not in hopes to receive an aid to  
  
assist her, they were simply meant to lessen her work! She loved working with the horses,  
  
yes, but only when she was alone. Another stranger in the stables would only prove to  
  
be another mistake. "What are you doing?!"  
  
  
  
  
"Petting the horse," Charles answered as he stroked Jumper's mane, slightly taken aback  
  
by the girl's panic.  
  
  
  
  
She pulled him away from the animal and stood between them. "That's not your job! If you  
  
want to be useful, rake out some hay from that there cart and fill up the horses' stalls.  
  
But when it actually comes to handling the animals, I can do it myself! They're already  
  
use to me."  
  
  
  
  
"You're rather protective of them, ay? I wasn't going to hurt the bloody thing. Mind ye,  
  
I was raised on a farm, we treated the animals like family. I'd never do harm to them."  
  
  
  
  
Becca studied his face and immediately felt sorry for her accusations. Lately she had  
  
been jumping to conclusions so recklessly ever since her run in with Race and the  
  
girlfriend he had been hiding from her for who knew how long?! It seemed as if everytime  
  
she had begun to accept someone new in her life, she was erasing their name from her  
  
memory mere weeks later. Of course, Webster had proven a kindly man. He wasn't exactly  
  
what the girl would call the fatherly type, but he had provided her with a home and  
  
job and to that she was grateful.   
  
  
  
  
She sighed again, this time in apology. "Do you ever feel as if they're the only ones   
  
you can tell your secrets to?"  
  
  
  
  
Charles smiled. "All the time."  
  
  
  
  
* * * * *   
  
  
  
  
Jack reclined onto his bunk and nodded as Racetrack went on about the immoralities of  
  
seducing an innocent girl like Mallory simply for the glory of winning a bet. "So youse  
  
throwin' in the towel, Race?"  
  
  
  
  
"It seems like the right thing tah do. 'Sides, I gots this goil I'se tryin' tah get wid  
  
and it wouldn't be cool tah be playin' them at the same time, ya know?" Naturally, Becca  
  
was his main reasoning for retiring from his life as a player for up until meeting her, he  
  
would have welcomed in any bet that had to do with charming girls with shallow words. There  
  
was just something mysterious about Becca, something intriguing that he wanted to learn  
  
more about.  
  
  
  
  
"Youse a good man, Race. I should be droppin' out too since I'se gots Snap and all."  
  
  
  
  
The Italian smiled. "So I'se hoid. Who'da thought youse would hook up wid 'er, huh?" He  
  
looked around the bunkroom laughing. "Wheah is she, by the way?"  
  
  
  
  
"Ah, she said somethin' about meetin' up wid some old friend." There was an uncomfortable  
  
pause before he continued. "She said Spot forced her into doing those things at Medda's.  
  
I believe 'er too. I mean, I think this goil really likes me, and I like 'er back. So  
  
things should woik out, right?"  
  
  
  
  
"If only things were that easy, Jacky-boy."  
  
  
  
  
* * * * *   
  
  
  
  
YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE HAW! : ) The end of yet another chapter!!! Ya'll Know what  
that means, right!?!? REVIEW TIME!!!!!!!!!!!! *game show music* C'mon, goils! Step right  
on up and submit those reviews!!!! You favorite characters are waiting to hear from   
youse! w00t w00t!!! REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!!! PLEASE!!! Let's take one step closer to  
BREAKING 100!!!!!!! YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!!!! Love ya All!!! 


	12. Why Shouldn't I Kiss Ya?

DISCLAIMER: These characters do NOT belong to me unfortunately. I tried to kidnap  
them from Disney and was unsuccessful. Go figure. However, Runner and Mallory are  
MINE, and so is Josephine, Aunt Patricia, and Daisy! Muahahaha! So take that, Mickey!!  
OoOogles! I almost forgot Becca and Snap. They's mine too!! BleH! : ) Ah, the list just  
goes on, there's Mr. Carter too of course. And Vixen...  
  
  
A.N.   
HOLY DUCK!!! So many reviews!!! I wish I could have a big party with chocolate   
covered newsies and invite ya'll over!!! w00t w00t!!! THANKS SO MUCH!!!! ~*MUAH*~ I   
appreciate the support so MUCH!!! WE'VE REACHED 100 REVIEWS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! *dances around with Runner* THANK YOU!!!  
  
  
  
  
~Skittles: Awww, sorry to hear you were sick in bed. Sickness sucks nickels, I'll tell  
ya that! I had a swore throat a few days ago and I was not a happy camper! And guess  
what?! You were my 100th reviewer!! w00t w00t! Go Skits!! We love youse!  
  
  
~SportyChik425: Hey, hey, hey! A fan of Cowboys, ay? Well then, you'll like this  
chapter! : ) w00t w00t! Thanks for the reviews!  
  
  
~Bottles: Hahaha, a talented little juvenile delinquent. "Did ya hear that one, Runner?"  
*Runner smirks* He and Mallory are in this chapter, by the way, and so are Race and  
Becca. : ) You go build that time machine and I'll work on the chapter after this  
one to explain Snap's intentions.  
  
  
~Deanie: Yea, poor Jacky. Maybe he'll wake up and smell the berries one day. Runner  
will be feeling bad for himself when his dad comes back too. Hahaha. Demanding parents,  
ugh, tell me about it! LoL!  
  
  
~racesgurl52787: Hahaha, Charles...if you're worried about him taking away Becca, I   
think you'll LOVE this chapter! *whistles innocently* : )  
  
  
~Angel: Whoa there girly. I feel a smackdown coming on. LoL! No violence, or I'll have  
to escort you out the building. : ) Don't worry, Spot and Jack will realize what's  
going on...hopefully. Haha. No, the poem in the story's from "The Dream Within" by  
Lara Fabian. It's a song, mind you, a really good one too!   
  
  
~geometrygal: Tell me, darlin', d'ya really like Geometry? Anywho, I love new reviewers!  
Thanks so much for reviewing! w00t w00t! I'm glad the story caught your attention. : )  
Hope ya enjoy this chapter!  
  
  
~Snuggles: Naming an egg after the guy you like. *shakes head* What has gotten into you,  
Amy? LoL! So I've stopped liking Andres and now I'm onto a guy I nicknamed Runner, so  
don't feel bad about that name thing, lol. w00t w00t!   
  
  
~Trek: Race IS adorable!! *chases a scared Race all over the room* Muahaha. Oh, about  
Runner running away again...remember how in the last chapter he told Mallory that  
whenever he wanted to get away from his strict life, he'd run away to Brooklyn to be a  
newsie with Spot? Well, he's just thinking that with his father returning and all, his  
life will go back to being miserable and he feels like running away again. : )   
Snap=female dog, that's all I gots to say.  
  
  
~Drama-Queen: Yea, I figured you weren't like what Snap has become. LoL! : ) OoOgles,  
a Race and Becca fan? Then read on, my friend!  
  
  
~Lanen: I'll explain what Snap is up to in the next chapter. Everything's so confusing,  
feel free to ask me to elaborate more on certain things. : ) If ya really like Race  
and Becca, you'll love this chapter. Heehee. Mmm, don't worry, Runner's use to his  
parents being out there, lol. Actually, his father coming back was a surprise but the  
teacher kinda let the cat outta the bag so to speak. Heehee.   
  
  
~Rhapsody: Here's another chapter comin' atchya, goily! Thanks so much for the review!  
w00t w00t! There's a whoel section devoted to our dear Runner in this addition, so you  
can fall even mor ein love with him. Hahaha. Enjoy!  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Just A Little Bet  
  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~ Jack couldn't bring himself to look into her solemn eyes, for it would only   
  
put him to shame for not having upheld his promise. "I'se really sorry, Mallory. I tried   
  
tah convince the boys tah be charitable and all, but they's were concerned 'bout payin'  
  
fer lunch today and so...yea." He handed her eight folded dollar bills with a frown. The  
  
money had come from his own pocket; he couldn't bear the weight of visiting her empty  
  
handed.  
  
  
  
  
"Thank you," she said in return. The way Jack had talked, she had begun to expect a grand  
  
amount of cash to be raised for her father's benefit and seeing less than ten dollars as  
  
the end result didn't particularly brighten her moods, but she was grateful nonetheless.   
  
It was, as she had been taught, the thought that counted.  
  
  
  
  
"I know that probably aint enough. I'se could sell papes and give ya me profits, starvin'  
  
fer a few days aint nothin' new in me life."  
  
  
  
  
Mallory shook her head. "Don't be ridicolous, Jack. I'd never put you through such dire  
  
conditions. You did what you could and I'm thankful for that much. I still have some money  
  
left in my college account that my father can use for now. We'll figure out something   
  
later." She tried to smile, but he knew that she was only trying to find the optimistic   
  
aspects of her situation.  
  
  
  
  
"Didn't ya tell me once that youse didn't like him doin' that, though? How's ya gunna go   
  
to school if he keeps takin' ya money?"  
  
  
  
  
"Well I've reached the conclusion that it was his money to begin with, since he's the one  
  
that deposited it into the account in the first place. So if it's his, and he needs it,   
  
he should be able to do with it what he pleases."  
  
  
  
  
Jack squinted his eyes against the blinding rays of the rising sun, lifting his hand to  
  
his forehead to use as a visor. The distribution office would be opening for business soon  
  
and as Manhattan's leader, he made it a duty to be first in line to buy papers every  
  
morning. "So how's ya dad doin' anyways? Gettin' bettah by any chance?"  
  
  
  
  
"Sometimes he feels well," she answered, her attention drifting off. "But the doctors  
  
told him his lungs were starting to develop a mucus lining, and that in time his breathing  
  
would get raspy." Mallory was disappointed by the fact that her father had not been the  
  
one to tell her the news, but rather a nurse whom she had interrogated on a visit to the  
  
doctor's clinic when her father's claims to be resuming his health aroused suspicion in   
  
her. She couldn't understand why he would hide the truth from her. Why wouldn't he want   
  
her to know?  
  
  
  
  
"We'se use tah have this one kid who had breathin' problems," said Jack. "I forgot what  
  
he was sick from, but Kloppmann always had tah watch after 'im and he wouldn't let the kid  
  
go out fer anything. He had a good sense of humor though, this kid, and he could always  
  
cheer us up when we'se were in the downs."  
  
  
  
  
Mallory smiled. "Is he still one of your newsies?"  
  
  
  
  
Jack suddenly realized his mistake in having brought up the boy's story. "Uhm...well, he  
  
had been really sick fer a long while and it just got too cold one December night...and he,  
  
uhm, well...he passed away." He looked away from her and cursed himself for mentioning the  
  
account. He could have at least lied by saying the boy was alive and well in some Upstate  
  
home, but no, he had only succeeded in dampening Mallory's spirits. "But I'se shoah that  
  
death aint always the outcome in those cases. Ya father sounds like a strong guy from the  
  
way you've talked about 'im. 'Sides, he's got youse tah keep 'im fightin' fer his life."  
  
  
  
  
"Sometimes I wonder whether he thinks my existence is enough reason for him to Want to   
  
die."  
  
  
  
  
"Whaddya talkin about!?"  
  
  
  
  
"My father was on the verge of retiring from his job at the factory," she sighed. "If he  
  
were to pass away, the monthly paychecks they would have mailed him would be forwarded to  
  
my account, though I wouldn't have access to the money since I'm underage. But in three  
  
years, once I can open the account there'll be quite an accumulation there to provide for  
  
my needs until I can at least obtain a job of my own. At home he looks at me sometimes as  
  
if he's calculating my future and it scares me."  
  
  
  
  
Jack caressed her cheek with his hand. "Aww, sweety, ya aint gotta be scared. Don't worry  
  
'bout anything, alls gunna woik out just fine." He knew he shouldn't have done so since  
  
Snap was presently his girl, but he had twenty bucks riding on his actions with Mallory   
  
and this was the perfect chance to kiss her; so he did. It wasn't anything as promiscous   
  
as he would have liked, but he knew he had to take baby steps with the girl and gradually   
  
build his way to making bigger moves on her.   
  
  
  
  
"You shouldn't do that," was all she could say afterwards. She had enjoyed the kiss, no  
  
doubt about that, but she wasn't willing to give her heart away so freely, especially   
  
after her episodes with Spot.   
  
  
  
  
"Why not? Youse a great goil, Mallory. Ya have a sweet personality and ya fun tah be   
  
around. I don't know why all that crap's happenin' tah ya father, cause ya shoah don't   
  
desoive it. Ya desoive tah be happy alls the time, and I thought I could do that for   
  
youse. So why shouldn't I kiss ya?"  
  
  
  
  
She didn't have an answer, so she didn't give him one. Instead, she allowed him to kiss  
  
her again, and then a third time, until he parted with her to go sell his papers for the  
  
World.  
  
  
  
  
* * * * *   
  
  
  
  
Runner sauntered down the hallways of St. JOhn's, slapping hands with his passing friends  
  
and stopping every so often to kiss a girl on the cheek and smirk when they blushed or  
  
erupted into giggles. After stuffing his Calculus book into his locker, he continued on  
  
down the hallway about to pass the open doorway to his Philosophy class until the teacher  
  
from inside grabbed his attention and stopped him for a moment's time.   
  
  
  
  
"Lucas, I had to give your Analysis Paper a 76! There was absolutely no supporting   
  
evidence for the issues you brought up and you cited no sources from your bibliography!   
  
I expected much more from you, young man. This is possibly the worse you've ever done in   
  
this class!"  
  
  
  
  
"Mother Smith, has anyone ever told you how beautiful your eyes are? Exactly what shade of  
  
color are they, I can't stop staring! Is that blue...or maybe grey? Honestly, you should  
  
show them off more often."  
  
  
  
  
The nun blushed at the compliment and playfully smacked Runner with the stapled pages of  
  
his report. "Oh, you silly goose, you!"  
  
  
  
  
"I was only being honest, Mother." He gave her a gallant smile. "Now about my analysis,  
  
certainly a 76 is a bit drastic, don't you think? You must understand, Mother, I was   
  
writing this during an emotionally distressing time."  
  
  
  
  
"Oh?"  
  
  
  
  
"Well...I, uh, I had recently recieved the news of a deceased member of the church. Yes,  
  
that's it! Uh, someone I'd known dearly, and it broke my heart to learn of their passing."  
  
  
  
  
Mother Smith brought a hand to her heart in sympathy. "Lucas, that is terrible! You poor  
  
thing!" She pulled him into a hug. "You listen to me. Take as much time as you need to  
  
rewrite this paper, all right? I'll excuse you for turning it in late. Just take it easy,  
  
dear."  
  
  
  
  
Runner nodded sadly, thanked her, and then proceeded his walk to the double doors ahead,  
  
grinning at his accomplishment once there was no one in view. How he had the entire   
  
teaching staff wrapped around his finger! He could ask for an extension to write an essay  
  
and it would be given to him, he could suggest to be excused from taking a test because  
  
of 'spiritual burdens' and a later examination date would be scheduled for him. He   
  
laughed once outside the school and jogged the rest of the way to his destination;   
  
Mallory's house.  
  
  
  
  
When he reached her address he knocked on the door three times but no one seemed to be  
  
home. He was contemplating knocking again when he espied her a block away just then,   
  
standing in front of a bakery with a puppy at her side. "Mallory," he called out to her  
  
and waved. Closing the distance between them in half a minute, he greeted her with a hug  
  
and would have kissed her cheek as he did the other girls at his school but for some   
  
reason, he grew shy when their eyes met and instead diverted his gaze to the cake she was   
  
holding.  
  
  
  
  
"Ooo, pound cake! I can't remember the last time I had a slice of that!"  
  
  
  
  
"You can have some with coffee if you'd like." She laughed when his face brightened.   
  
"That's a nice suit you're wearing. Is it for church?"  
  
  
  
  
Runner looked down at his clothes. "Oh this? Nah, it's my uniform for school. They use to  
  
make us wear berets too, but I was able to convince the headmaster that the things were  
  
a distraction to class sessions."  
  
  
  
  
"Ha, I'm surprised he let you have your way, I always thought teachers were strict. But  
  
how is it that you're not in school right now?"  
  
  
  
  
"I managed to have my guidance counselor assign me Study Hall for my sixth period class,  
  
the last class of the day. As soon as I get out of Calculus, I head straight for the  
  
streets while everyone else has to take a sixth class. When my father nagged me about it,  
  
I told him it was only so that I could get a head start on my homework and he believed   
  
me."  
  
  
  
  
Mallory shook her head. "Well aren't you a devious one?" she teased, not able to stifle  
  
her laughter. "You don't realize how lucky you are to be attending school, Lucas. If I   
  
were in your position, I'd be taking as many classes as possible."  
  
  
  
  
As she fished inside a small purse for the key to her door, she handed him Daisy's leash  
  
and he gladly took the rope. "You should enroll into a school then."  
  
  
  
  
"If only I could." She unlocked the door and pushed her way in, nodding to Runner to  
  
follow after. "Unfortunately, I haven't the funds to pay for tuition and I haven't the  
  
heart to study nowadays anyhow. I'm sure your cousin has told you of my father's  
  
condition?"  
  
  
  
  
"Yea, I'm sorry about that." He unlatched Dasiy from her leash to hang the rope on a  
  
rack nailed to the wall. "If you ever need someone to talk to, feel free to stop by my  
  
place anytime. I know it can be difficult sometimes."  
  
  
  
  
Now in the kitchen, she grabbed him a small plate upon which she lay him a piece of the  
  
pound cake. "Thank you, that's very sweet. You sound just like Jack."  
  
  
  
  
"Jack?"  
  
  
  
  
"Yes," she replied with a dreamy smile. "He spoke those exact words to me this morning,  
  
though his were accompanied with a kiss or two...or three..." She giggled and was  
  
embarrased at having spoken so outwardly.  
  
  
  
  
Runner's face flushed with jealousy. It was enough to keep a constant vigilance over  
  
Spot to make sure the Brooklynite wouldn't try anything on the girl, but now he had to  
  
worry about Jack too? Since when was Mallory ever so friendly with him?! "Excuse me,   
  
Mallory, I should be leaving now." He hadn't even taken a bite out of his cake but he  
  
had a feeling the girl would only go on about Jack's charm if he stayed longer.  
  
  
  
  
"So soon?" She pouted. If Lucas left now, she didn't know what she'd do until Jack  
  
passed by to pick her up for lunch. "Must you?"  
  
  
  
  
"I'll come over tomorrow if it's okay with you." She told him it would be and then wrapped  
  
her arms around him in a hug. As he held her there, something ocurred to him. Mallory  
  
wanted to attend school, but did not have the money or will to. Would a certain   
  
scholarship change her mind? He remembered how Father Romanik talked to the students   
  
about a special grant the school was offering for young people who were elgible. What if   
  
Mallory received the money and became a student at St. John's? If that happened, Runner   
  
could have her all to himself and wouldn't have to worry about Jack, Spot, or Race   
  
intruding on his affairs.  
  
  
  
  
"Heya Mallory," he said, pulling her back at arm's length with a smile. "You wouldn't  
  
happen to be interested in applying for a scholarship for schooling, would you?"  
  
  
  
  
* * * * *   
  
  
  
  
"Please, I need to speak to a girl in there named Becca!" Race struggled against the  
  
security guards at Sheepshead with a determination to not leave the tracks until he  
  
had apologized to the girl for the misunderstanding that had broken their friendship.  
  
  
  
  
"Young man, you'd do well to go your way before we're forced to fetch the police."  
  
  
  
  
Race pushed the man back. "I'm here to see Becca!" he exclaimed. "The girl that works  
  
for Mr. Webster?! In the stables!!" They stared at him blankly. "Do any of you speak  
  
English!?"  
  
  
  
  
"Mr. Webster isn't in today. As for a Becca, we don't recall one being employed here."  
  
One of the guards was beginning to handcuff the newsie when a well-dressed man from  
  
behind interrupted the commotion.  
  
  
  
  
"What is all this about?"  
  
  
  
  
"Mr. Webster," replied one of the head guards, "this boy claims to know you."  
  
  
  
  
Race rolled his eyes at the misconstrued information. "I didn't say I'se knew him, I said  
  
I knew the goil who woiks fer him!" He was about to go on ranting again when she finally  
  
appeared, stepping up to her boss's side with a confused look.   
  
  
  
  
Mr. Webster turned to her. "Becca, dear, do you know this young man?"  
  
  
  
  
"Yes."  
  
  
  
  
The head guard shrugged at his comrades. "Well I'll be damned, there is a Becca in this  
  
place!" They all laughed and walked on as if nothing had happened.  
  
  
  
  
Becca glared at their backs. Typical, as far as the other workers at Sheepshead were  
  
concerned, she was nothing more than a shadow they overlooked all the time. "Race, what  
  
are you doing here?"  
  
  
  
  
"Becca, we need to talk. Right now, it can't wait. Please, give me a chance."  
  
  
  
  
"I'll be waiting outside," Mr. Webster told her, casting a wary glance at the newsie as  
  
he turned to walk out the building.  
  
  
  
  
The girl watched him leave and then started off ahead of her. "Follow me," she said  
  
simply. Race did as he was told and tagged behind as Becca entered into the stables and  
  
closed the door behind them. The horses in their stalls neighed in greeting at the sight  
  
of their keeper, she returned their hello's with pats on the necks and kind words.  
  
  
  
  
"I thought youse woiked today."  
  
  
  
  
"No, me and Webster's going to a farm to buy another horse. We only stopped here to pick  
  
up extra harnesses in case the owner didn't have any." She pulled leather reins from  
  
under other equipment and made sure the material wasn't tarnished in any way. "So what  
  
did you want to talk to me about?"  
  
  
  
  
He wanted her full attention for this so he stepped closer and waited for her to look  
  
up at him. When she did, he began. "Becca, the other day when youse saw me and Mallory  
  
together like that, it wasn't what ya thought..."  
  
  
  
  
"It's alright, I'm fine with it. You're not the only player I've known, Race. It's   
  
nothing new, guys do it all the time."  
  
  
  
  
"No, wait. See that's where youse is wrong. I wasn't playin' ya at all! The goil is only  
  
me friend. She invited me tah the tracks 'cause she knew I'se love the place, but it  
  
weren't no date, and we'se aint goin' out. I'se tried tah tell ya that same day but  
  
youse wouldn't heah me out. Becca, I'd never do somethin' like that tah hoit youse! I  
  
thought ya knew me bettah than that! Ya mean alot tah me, goil."  
  
  
  
  
Becca started crying before he had even finished his last sentence. "Race, I'm so sorry  
  
for being an idiot! I should've known you weren't that type of person!" She threw her  
  
arms around his neck and buried her face onto his shoulder. "I'm so stupid, I knew you  
  
wouldn't do something like that, but I acted on impulse and, and..." the rest was lost  
  
in her cries.  
  
  
  
  
"Don't call yaself that. Youse had every right tah be mad." His arms slid around her waist  
  
protectively, his hands massaging her lower back to comfort her. "Becca, listen tah me.  
  
We'se gunna have tah trust eachother from heah on out, okay?" She nodded, her head still  
  
resting on his shoulder. "Look at me fer a minute, I'se wanna ask ya somethin'"  
  
  
  
  
"Yea?" She pulled back a few inches and looked into his eyes.  
  
  
  
  
He paused, suddenly nervous to pose the question, but he knew he would have to get his  
  
feelings out his mouth sooner or later so he chose now. "Will youse be me goil?"  
  
  
  
  
The smile on Becca's face warmed his heart and he felt the temperature rising even more  
  
when she pressed her lips against his and hugged him tight. "Of course I'll be your  
  
girl, Race! I couldn't dream of being with anyone else!"  
  
  
  
  
* * * * *   
  
  
  
AHHHHH, this chapter was meant to be LONGER but my BiOlOgY homework calls!!! WOWZERZ!  
You goils SUBMITTED FOURTEEN REVIEWS last time!!!! w00t w00t!!!!! WE REACHED 100!!!!  
*the newsies all dance to random music* And yes, me dears, they're repeatedly performing  
their pelvic thrust routine. Muahaha!!! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE send in MORE REVIEWS!!!  
I LOVE 'EM!!!!!! C'mon, be the first handful of kiddos to break 100!!! REVIEW!!!!!!!!  
REVIEEEEEEEEEEEW!!!!!!!!!!! LOVE YA ALL!!!!!!!!!! 


	13. Ya Quit For A Goil?

DISCLAIMER: These characters do NOT belong to me unfortunately. I tried to kidnap  
them from Disney and was unsuccessful. Go figure. However, Runner and Mallory are  
MINE, and so is Josephine, Aunt Patricia, and Daisy! Muahahaha! So take that, Mickey!!  
OoOogles! I almost forgot Becca and Snap. They's mine too!! BleH! : ) Ah, the list just  
goes on, there's Mr. Carter too of course. And Vixen...  
  
  
A.N. THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU FOR ALL THE REVIEWS!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
  
  
  
  
~SportyChik425: Runner's appearance is based on the guy I have a crush on, but his  
character came from the good ol' Imagination machine. Muahaha. My favorite character?  
*looks around and makes sure the others aren't around* Well, to be honest, my  
favorite is none other than Runner! Heehee. But from the movie, definitely Spot. : )  
  
  
~Rhapsody: Well, I'm glad you chose to read the last chapter even though you weren't  
suppose to be online. *sigh* The devotion of my reviewers, how admirable. Heehee!   
  
  
~Angel: Men ARE a confusing breed of species. Muahaha! Why do we love 'em? I'll  
never know. Jealousy=cute when it's one of me boys. Heehee.   
  
  
~Trek: I think going to school with Runner would be fun too! I went to school with  
a guy like him named Levi. He was good looking, charming, admired by practically   
half the girls in school, and a pure GENIUS!! Unfortunately, he graduated last  
year, but we still keep in touch. : ) Never read "A Seperate Peace" but Finny  
sounds interesting. Tell me more about this book, hmm?  
  
  
~racesgurl52787: w00t w00t! Thanks for the review!!! Here's more Race!  
  
  
~Apollonia: I can't believe you killed Spot!!! *cries* I need to read some more of  
your story tomorrow. *sigh* I was like, speechless. I just stared at the screen  
for a while...it was incredibly sad. Ah well, it was very well written!! : )  
Who shall Mallory end up with indeed...hmmm...we shall see...  
  
  
~geometrygal: Where you started writing your fanfics. Of Course! Yeeeshk, I hate  
Algebra II!! I'm taking it now! Normal Distributions can burn at the stake! YUCK!!  
Here's another Race/Becca chappie for youse!  
  
  
~Shortie: Long time no see. I must say, Runner was quite disappointed by your lack  
of reviewing, Captain, but he was glad to see you return. FLUFFY?! Muahahaha! You  
should know me better than that, short stuff. I'm about to break those two up now!  
Okay...well, not really...but yea. Muaha!  
  
  
~Snuggles: Yes, Runner reminds me of Runner...did that make sense? He's this really  
cute guy with blonde hair like Runner's and green eyes...*sigh* And when he passed  
me at lunch, he looked back at me twice and I just think he's the cutest! So I named  
him after dear lil' Runner. He looks like a flirt too, there's always a girl around  
him....giving him a hug...*glares* But anywho, enough of me, how's Eric. hehehe.  
  
  
~newsietomboy: Poor Jealous lil' Runner. OoOgles, and that kiss sure knocked  
Mallory off her feet. *sighs* Well, another chapter 4 youse!  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Just A Little Bet  
  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~ "So, I'se hoid ya father finally came back yesterday."  
  
  
  
  
Runner smirked at the comment as he read from the history book he was suppose to be  
  
studying over last week for a coming exam that weighed heavily on his overall grade  
  
for the class. "Yea, unfortunately so." The boy recalled the return vividly. His   
  
father had made his trip back to New York by boat and when the man finally located   
  
his family on the departure docks, his smile could not be any more wider. Collecting   
  
his wife in a hug, he spun the woman around with a laugh that overpowered the raucous   
  
of the other reunited families nearby.   
  
  
  
  
"Oh darling, I'm so glad you've returned to us safely," Mother Conlon had said,  
  
holding her husband's face in her hands.  
  
  
  
  
The priest smiled at the warm homecoming and then noticed Runner standing by, waiting  
  
to greet his father as well. "Hello son," he nodded. But instead of a loving embrace  
  
or anything of the sort, the man merely held out his hand for a shake. And so once  
  
again, Runner was left to bottle up his feelings.  
  
  
  
  
Spot thanked Josephine as she brought the two boys cups of hot chocolate before  
  
retreating behind the counter of her restaurant to ring up the order and then  
  
watched his cousin flip the page in that confounded book of his. "I'se surprised.  
  
Ya aint surrounded by ya usual cloud of smoke."  
  
  
  
  
"Oh, I quit."  
  
  
  
  
"Ya kiddin' me?" That defintely was news, considering the Brooklyn leader had just  
  
seen Runner smoking last they spoke. "Me lecturin' finally rubbed off on youse?"  
  
  
  
  
The younger newsie jotted down a few notes from the section he was reading as if  
  
he had not heard the question. But just as Spot was about to press at it again, he  
  
looked up with a blank expression. "Uh, not really. Actually I'se did it fer Mallory."  
  
  
  
  
"Excuse me? Youse quit fer a goil?"  
  
  
  
  
"Shoah, why not?" He would have gone on studying but suddenly, Spot slammed the  
  
book shut and demanded an explanation. Runner sighed, not really wanting to share  
  
his personal business. "Well, the foist time she invited me into her house, I'se  
  
was smokin' and although she didn't say anything 'bout it, I kinda picked up on  
  
the fact that she was turned off. So when I'se walked towards her livin' room, I  
  
put the cigarette out in some gold ash tray they's got." He thought for a moment.  
  
"I think the thing was just there fer decoration or somethin' cause their house  
  
don't smell like smoke. But anyways, she looked more comfortable once I had stopped,  
  
so I'se thought I'd quit. 'Sides, the things is bad fer ya health."  
  
  
  
  
Spot rolled his eyes. "I'se disappointed in youse, Runnah. Changin' fer a goil?  
  
Damn, ya really got it bad. Speakin' of Mallory, ya muddah told me youse were  
  
settin' tah enroll her at ya school." He noticed the boy tense at the announcement  
  
and smirked. "Ya didn't really think you could keep it a secret did ya? In any  
  
case, I'se kinda busy wid another goil anyways, so youse have all the fun ya want."  
  
  
  
  
"She aint some toy fer youse tah be playin' wid in some damn bet, Spot!"  
  
  
  
  
"Ah, stop that goody goody talk. Youse is beginnin' tah sound like Race. Ya know  
  
the bum dropped outta the bet?! Damn scab, figures." His eyes focused on two newsies  
  
entering the restaurant then, the mischief in his face fading. "Runnah, get outta  
  
heah."  
  
  
  
  
Runner didn't make so much as the slightest move at first. He turned in his seat and  
  
watched as Flame-the leader of Queens-and his righthand man Falcon approached   
  
their table in anything but a friendly manner.  
  
  
  
  
"Well, if aint the lil' preachah boy from St. Johnny's," Flame said mockingly.  
  
  
  
  
"Ya writin' a sermon there, preachach?" Falcon joined in the laughter. "Hey, hey,  
  
I'se moidered a bunch of altar boys the other day, is me sins forgiven?" He doubled  
  
over in amusement, slamming his hand upon the table with joy.  
  
  
  
  
Runner stayed cool, he even smiled. "Heya Falcon, deliver a message tah ya goil  
  
Amber fer me, huh? Tell 'er I said thanks fer last night."  
  
  
  
  
Spot jumped from his seat and stood between Falcon and Runner before the altercation  
  
evolved into a physical fight. "Ya two wanna fight, then do it on ya own time. Now  
  
we'se alls know that newsies from Queens aint allowed in me territory, Flame. What  
  
the hell is youse doin' heah?"  
  
  
  
  
"I'se heah tah settle a score wid some bum who ratted out on one of me boys. He  
  
stole some food from a vendor and none other than a Brooklyn fag hinted tah the  
  
bulls and now the kid's in the refuge."  
  
  
  
  
"Well how can youse be so shoah it was someone from Brooklyn?" Runner asked from  
  
behind Spot. "It coulda been Manhattan or the Bronx just as well. I know youse aint  
  
that stupid tah forget how big New Yawk is."  
  
  
  
  
Flame glared at the boy. "Ya know, Runnah, I'd be satisfied if I could just put a  
  
bullet through ya head one of these days. Of course, that'd take all the fun outta  
  
beatin' the shit outta youse." He turned back to Spot. "We'll leave ya lil'  
  
borough, but the next time somethin' like this happens, ya bettah watch ya back,  
  
Spotty." He shot one last menacing look at Runner, and then headed off to his  
  
lodging house with Falcon aside him.  
  
  
  
  
* * * * *   
  
  
  
  
Charles took a bite out the apple that would serve as his breakfast in content. This  
  
was quite the life, he thought to himself. Food, a home, a nice paying job...then  
  
again, there was that assignment Webster had thrown at him. The words still played  
  
over and over in his head.   
  
  
  
  
"The girl that works for me, Becca's her name. She's a  
  
quiet one, reclusive if you know what I mean. I pity the poor thing, she needs a  
  
friend, someone to confide in. See what you can do."  
  
  
  
  
The boy sighed. He doubted there was anything he could do! One minute she was  
  
bounding with glee, the next she was correcting him on how to properly groom a horse.  
  
Sooner or later, he knew he would go mad!  
  
  
  
  
"Charles! Did you get that apple from the horses' pail?!"  
  
  
  
  
"Ay, I did. What are ye gunna tell me now? That I'm not to eat while working?"  
  
  
  
  
Becca snatched the piece of fruit from him. "If you're hungry, then buy something to  
  
eat before coming here! These are for the horses!" She threw the apple into a pail  
  
and then lifted the object off the ground, looking at her reflection in its metal  
  
surface. She frowned at the sight. Her hair was an untidy mess and her face...she  
  
would not even go on about its flaws.   
  
  
  
  
"Ah, youse lookin' beautiful as always!"  
  
  
  
  
She turned around to find Race standing right behind her holding a long stemmed rose,  
  
a grin plastered on his face. "Race!"   
  
  
  
  
"Just came tah visit youse, doll. How's ya day?"  
  
  
  
  
"Great now." She kissed him on the cheek and smiled. "Is that rose for me?"  
  
  
  
  
He presented to her, kissing the back of her hand as she receieved it. "Of coise. I  
  
was originally gunna buy ya a rose fer everytime I'se thought of youse yesterday, but  
  
I couldn't exactly afford six hundred and twenty two of em."  
  
  
  
  
Charles groaned at the sappy exchange of words. "Beggin' ya pardon, Race is it? I  
  
do believe the lass has forgotten to introduce us. Me name's Charles Hutton. I work  
  
here at the stables with Becca."  
  
  
  
  
"Nice tah meet youse." Race shook hands with the boy but disregarded him a second  
  
later. "So Becca, I'se was hopin' you'd come visit me place sometime today. Ya still  
  
gots tah meet all me friends, they'd love youse! Most are probably still out sellin'  
  
their papes, but I bet Jack and the rest is playin' pokah or just hangin' around."  
  
  
  
  
"I don't know," was the girl's reply. She liked Race very much, but she was still  
  
hesitant about going out into the city with him. What if she didn't like his  
  
friends? Or worse, what if they didn't like her? She was uncertain how she should  
  
act with them. Being herself was an obvious answer, but she didn't even know how  
  
to be that! Not anymore at least. "Can't we just stay here?"  
  
  
  
  
"I'se don't understand what ya so scared of, goil! I'm gunna be wid youse the whole  
  
time! None of the guys is gunna try somethin' on youse if they knows youse me goil.  
  
Ya really aint got no excuses. What are ya afraid of?"  
  
  
  
  
"Race, I just don't want to go right now. I'm not ready."  
  
  
  
  
He was getting annoyed by her coyness now and couldn't help but raise his voice.   
  
"Well when are ya gunna be ready!?"  
  
  
  
  
"Ye needn't yell at the lass," Charles intruded from where he sat on a stack of hay.  
  
  
  
  
Race sighed. "I wasn't yellin'"  
  
  
  
  
"Charles, I don't need you to defend me," the girl snapped, embarassed that there was  
  
a witness to her and Race's petty arguments. "Race, please, just give me some time.  
  
This is new to me and I don't want to rush into anything. Please?"  
  
  
  
  
It's not like he could say no, especially when she looked at him with those innocent  
  
large eyes. "Shoah, we'll take it slow."  
  
  
  
  
* * * * *   
  
  
  
  
Snap was steadily ascending the staircase to paradise. Jack was blinded by his lust  
  
for her, Spot was actually agreeing to a relationship with her, and the two best   
  
friends were unknowingly marching forth to their own war with eachother. Although,  
  
war was much too harsh a word. She would have none of that. Rather, they were  
  
doing all the things that would eventually guarantee the ruin of their friendship was  
  
all.  
  
  
  
  
"And they's thought I wouldn't be able tah do it." The girl laughed as she retraced  
  
the memory. It was a Saturday last November when she had been sitting with her  
  
friends in the main room of the Staten Island lodging house. Talking about the   
  
acclaimed Spot Conlon, one girl as fiery in nature as Snap had dared the girl   
  
to try her best at seducing the Brooklyn leader.  
  
  
  
  
"But why end there?" their leader, A.J., had asked. "Once ya take 'im tah bed, try  
  
keepin' 'im there. Ya know 'is type. They's in it fer the sex and as soon as they's  
  
get that, youse can go tah hell fer all they's care."  
  
  
  
  
Snap had taken him up on that offer. To awaken a night of wild passions for Spot,   
  
and then afterwards keep him focused on her alone. She had to admit, it was a  
  
challenge. Twice already she had caught Vixen giving him meanigful looks during the  
  
nightly Brooklyn poker games. Naturally, Snap would fend her off by sitting on the  
  
boy's lap or whispering things into his ear that would make him smirk.   
  
  
  
  
Her first morning in Manhattan, Snap remembered a girl named Piper endlessly ranting   
  
about her love for Jack Kelly and how she would personally gouge out the eyes of   
  
any who stood in the way of her relationship with the leader. But Snap still had   
  
her eyes; it had been all talk. "You can't make Jack fall in love wid youse!" Piper  
  
had barked at her one night. She was all too wrong.   
  
  
  
  
Last but not least, there was that comment some newsies from the Bronx had made to  
  
her at Medda's that night. "Ya wanna play Spot and Jack at the same time?" they   
  
asked in disbelief. "Like they'd choose some goil over each other. D'ya even know  
  
how long they's been friends?"  
  
  
  
  
So Snap had three things to prove during her mission as an in-between newsie at  
  
Manhattan and Brooklyn. One, that Spot Conlon could in fact abandon his womanizing  
  
ways and actually work hard at a relationship with a single girl. Two, that Jack  
  
Kelly could indeed fall for the type of girl Spot usually chased after. And third,  
  
that in doing so, Spot and Jack would annihilate the vow they had made as best   
  
friends to never let a girl come between them.  
  
  
  
  
* * * * *   
  
  
  
  
In the passing weeks, the temperatures neither dropped nor rose. Late winter's  
  
freezing weather stayed consistent day to day, even when the month of February  
  
now appeared on every calendar in the state. Mallory drew hearts around the date  
  
February 14th in her planner and thought about Jack. He had visited her three times  
  
since their first kiss, each time wrapped with surprises of its own. Sometimes  
  
the two would catch an early flick and then stroll about Central Park, other times  
  
they just stayed in Mallory's house talking for hours about whatever made them  
  
comfortable.   
  
  
  
  
The girl loved those days when the Manhattan leader showed up on her doorstep.   
  
She felt as if she could tell him anything and not be ashamed or afraid of his  
  
response. It was nearly as enjoyable as talking to Runner, only less so by a small  
  
fraction because the butterflies that would flutter about in her stomach when looking  
  
into Jack's eyes often made her lightheaded. Which was why Runner would be the   
  
first to know whether she had been accepted into St. John's or not.  
  
  
  
  
The boy claimed her acceptance letter would be sent any day now, for he had put  
  
her application on fast-track evaluation by special request and had been told that  
  
he would receive and answer in two to three weeks. She was drenched in worry and  
  
nervousness. What if she didn't get in? What if she only received a partial   
  
scholarship?   
  
  
  
  
In the evening, she would sit with Runner on the couch of her living room and   
  
resting her head on his shoulder, would spill her dreams to him. He always said   
  
the same thing, that she had nothing to worry about. That out of all the   
  
applications he had seen during the evaluation processes, hers shone the brightest.   
  
But her heart was still filled with apprehension.   
  
  
  
  
A knock on the door and she bolted down the hallways, rushing to answer it with  
  
a fervor she had never known. "Lucas! Did you get it, did you get it?!" And then  
  
she saw the white envelope in his hand and she shrieked with excitement and fear.  
  
She pulled him through the doorway, closed the door, and urged him to tell her what  
  
he knew. "Did I get in? Did I? Please Lucas, don't just stand there! Tell me!"  
  
  
  
  
Runner laughed. "Jesus, girl, I haven't even opened it yet. I figured you should."  
  
He handed the envelope to her but she coiled away from the paper as if it were  
  
poison. "I'm dying to know, Mallory! Just open it!"  
  
  
  
  
"Let me wake my father first. Daddy! Daddy, get up! The letter's finally here! Come  
  
see what it says!" A minute later, Mr. Carter entered the room, his face paler than  
  
usual and his figure a bit more skinnier than Runner had remembered.   
  
  
  
  
"Ah, Good afternoon, Lucas."  
  
  
  
  
Runner nodded. "Sir." His attention was recaptured by Mallory as she began hugging  
  
herself and biting her bottom lip. "Mallory, open it already! Your father and I  
  
want to know how soon we need to start buying your school supplies!"  
  
  
  
  
His smile gave her the encouragement she needed. Exhaling a large breath of air, she  
  
ripped the seal of the envelope and peered in at its contents, a single folded   
  
letter. She looked at her father and he placed a hand on her shoulder to comfort  
  
her. She reached in and pulled out the letter, unfolding it so slowly Runner thought  
  
he could have gone home for a sleep and return to still see the girl working at the  
  
task.   
  
  
  
  
At last, she started reading the letter's words and all the while, Runner watched  
  
her face, waiting for exuberation to mark her features. But it never came. She  
  
frowned and creased the letter in half.  
  
  
  
  
"What did it say?!" Runner exclaimed.  
  
  
  
  
"Oh," Mallory replied sadly, "just that I've been accepted!" She burst into giggles  
  
as Runner yelled overjoyed and lifted her in a hug in congratulations.   
  
  
  
  
"I'm so proud of you!" Mr. Carter kissed the girl's forehead and hugged her as  
  
well. "Darling, this is amazing! You'll do so many great things in life!"  
  
  
  
  
Overwhelmed by the emotions within her, Mallory began to cry and sandwiched herself  
  
between her father and best friend as they celebrated her greatest achievement yet.  
  
  
  
  
* * * * *   
  
  
  
  
YIPPY YI YAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!!!!!! w00t w00t w00t w00t!!!! And we Come to the End of  
Another Chapter. *cries* But alas, for those of you on the edge of your seats,  
more reviews=faster updates!!! YEEEEEEEEEEE HAW!!!!!!!!! C'mon goilies! I LOVE  
THOSE REVIEWS!!!!!! And that button down there is feeling dejected again! C'mon,  
a simple few words is fine!!! All that I ask from youse is a REVIEW! PLEASE!?!?  
PLLEEEEEEEEEASsssse!? REVIEW!?!??! THANKIES!!! Love Ya All~ 


	14. Extinguished By Hate

DISCLAIMER: These characters do NOT belong to me unfortunately. I tried to kidnap  
them from Disney and was unsuccessful. Go figure. However, Runner and Mallory are  
MINE, and so is Josephine, Aunt Patricia, and Daisy! Muahahaha! So take that, Mickey!!  
OoOogles! I almost forgot Becca and Snap. They's mine too!! BleH! : ) Ah, the list   
just goes on, there's Mr. Carter too of course. And Vixen...  
  
  
A.N.   
*Swims in the Reviews* Awww, this is so AWESOME you guys!!! I'd like to thank everyone  
who made this possible...*tear, tear* Youse is all the best! I don't know how long   
this story's going to be, but maybe one day we'll even get to break 200! WoWzeRZ!  
THAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANK YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUSE!!!!!!!!!  
  
  
~geometrygal: Muahaha, Evilness. *takes a bow* What can I say? A couple can't possibly  
get together THAT easily! There must be twists, darlin'. Ah yes, SnaP. Well, she  
won't die, as a matter of fact, she causes quite a bit of trouble in this chappie.  
Thanks for the review!! w00t w00t! Read on and enjoy!  
  
  
~Southern Spell: Yes, I'll admit Spot, Race, and Jack are big ol' JERKS in this story.  
: ) But don't worry, they'll shape up....hopefully. Thanks for reviewing, new  
reviewers rock my world!! Yeah!! Hope ya like this chapter!  
  
  
~Apollonia: YaY! Mallory's in school now! w00t! Don't worry, I'll get back to  
reading your fic ASAP. I wanna know what'll happen between Jack and Apollonia now.  
Poor kids...Spot's dead. *cries* How evil of you! lol, jk. Spot's an angel now at  
least...heehee.  
  
  
~racesgurl52787: Runner quit smoking, Runner quit smoking! *dances around with an  
unenthused Runner* Heehee. LOL! Charles a dork? Ouch, that was a hit below the belt!  
Poor lad, now he's gone into some corner and is sulking. Muaha. Here's another  
update for youse!  
  
  
~Raeghann: You're the only one to notice the Catholic discrepancy, or at least the  
only one to bring it up. Yes, he is Catholic and did make the vow of celibacy. His  
father made the vow AFTER marrying and having a child with Mrs. Conlon...divorce  
isn't smiled upon either...so let's just say the church let them stay together. : )  
As for Runner himself, he made the vow when he was younger and as you can see by  
his character (smoking, cursing, drinking, and all) he's not exactly the devout  
type. lol. But I'll let you in on a little secret, Runner actually IS a virgin and  
you'll find this out in a later chapter. Woocha! *dances with Runner* Anywho, here's  
another update for youse! Enjoy! Ah, by the way, I added your story "Hourglass" into  
my favorites folder so that I can read the whole thing in one or two shots over  
Springbreak. : )  
  
  
~Snuggles: Great minds think alike indeed! Muahaha! Alexander Blake, hmm? Wow,   
that's a really cool dream you had there with Eric. So vivid too. My dreams are like  
fragments of visions. lol. Aww, I've been thinking about marriage lately though.  
*sigh* How does "Lily Conlon" sound to youse? Haha!  
  
  
~Angel: Heya goily, why don't you come here and kick Snap for all of us!? Haha. No  
one seems to like her anyways. The thing Race said about the roses is from "Sweet  
Home Alabama" ~good movie. : )   
  
  
~bottles: Becca's fear of...uh...meeting people? lol. Well anywho, it'll be revealed  
in the Valentine chapter. No, the Valentine chapter is not coming out on Valentines as   
ironic as that is...but in a few more chappies I guess. Hope ya like this chapter!  
  
  
~Rhapsody: Ah, Spot and Jack finally fight in this chapter. Eeschk, I so do not  
want to be at Tibby's then! Or actually...maybe I would. LoL! Yea, crazy Mallory.  
She falls in love with whatever guy kisses her, haha. But she'll get over Jacky  
boy soon enough if Runner plays his cards right. Voila~ another chapter I present to  
youse!  
  
  
~Deanie: Mallory attracted to guys with alotta power! LoL! Fun fun. Runner has some  
kinda power I suppose...I mean, he can suck up real nice to his teachers. That's  
worth something, right? Haha. Uhm...Mallory is only based on how shy I use to be  
but she's not really shy anymore and I don't intend on writing myself in either. I  
think the number of characters has a nice balance already, and too many twists! : )  
  
  
~Shortie: Have you seen Dead POet's Society? The students call their poetry teacher  
(played by Robin Williams) "Oh Captain, My Captain." yea...so anywho, live with the  
Simpsons? Well thats a new one! Haha! Runner's comeback to Falcon having meaning?  
*Runner laughs* Nah, the kid's been saying random crap like that all day. *sigh*  
"Heya guys, has any of youse ever thought what life would be like if youse were born  
a giraffe?" *crickets chirp...* Well, I guess not. Adieu Captain!  
  
  
~Sami: Awww, a plead on behalf of Runner. Heehee. Well, I'll let the chapters unwind  
on their own and see how you like it. Thanks for reviewing by the way, I Love New  
Reviewers! YaaaY!!  
  
  
~SportyChik425: Snap is an evil lassie, no one seems to like her anymore. Muahaha!  
I don't know, maybe she'll lighten up or something...YaaaY, Mallory got in!!!  
w00t w00t! Will she leave Jack? Hmmmm....*Runner holds his hand over her mouth*  
Sorry, me no allowed to say...heehee.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
*~*~*~*~*THIS CHAPTER IS DEDICATED TO THE MEMORY OF ONE FROM OUR NEWSIE FANFIC   
BROOD WHO PASSED AWAY FROM PLUEROSIS. CRICKET, MAY YOU REST IN PEACE*~*~*~*  
  
  
  
  
Just A Little Bet  
  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~ Meandering through the hordes of restless enthusiasts that made up today's  
  
crowd at Sheepshead, Charles cursed under his breath at the new ordeal that had been  
  
laid before him by Webster. Valentine's Day was fastly approaching and apparently,  
  
the man was under the impression that it would do Becca good to participate in the  
  
social event. Charles agreed. Becca carried herself about as if she were of the  
  
utmost fragility. She set herself apart from the masses all the time and sought out  
  
solitude whereas others would have welcomed company with outstretched arms. Several  
  
times he had attempted to initiate a meaningful conversation with her to gain her  
  
trust in some way so that she might at least feel at ease with him, but his attempts  
  
were all in vain. The girl only seemed to enclose herself all the more.  
  
  
  
  
Which is why Charles wasn't looking forward to asking her to the dance this particular  
  
day. For starters, he knew she was already taken and would instantly refuse to   
  
accompany him on the basis that it would be wrong for her to do so. Then there was  
  
the problem with her being introverted. He wondered if she was this shy with that  
  
Race boy as well.  
  
  
  
  
"G'day, lass." He had finally found her just outside the stable entrance, going over  
  
a list in her hands to make sure she understood each task. "Are ye havin' fun there?  
  
Work, work, work. That's all ye do."  
  
  
  
  
Becca sighed in annoyance. "Talk, talk, talk. That's all you do!"  
  
  
  
  
"Now don't start in on me, love. I was only pointin' out that ye should take time out  
  
to do more pleasurable things. I'll assume that Webster's already told ye about the  
  
Valentine's Dance? It's exclusively for the staff, and he'd like all to come."  
  
  
  
  
"I don't do dances, Charles. I'd have hoped you knew me better than that."  
  
  
  
  
"But considerin' how ye need to start openin' up more, I thought ye might like it."  
  
He leaned his shoulder against the wall beside her and watched her take her eyes   
  
off the paper for a moment to look at him. She appeared to be angered, or perhaps  
  
she was merely contemplative-he couldn't tell either way. Her moods were never  
  
readable to him.   
  
  
  
  
"I...I don't want to go," she replied quickly, trying her best to do away with the  
  
matter. Why couldn't anyone understand her personality? Why couldn't anyone just   
  
leaver her alone? All those memories from her past, they would always chase her and  
  
the only way to keep them at bay was to keep to herself.   
  
  
  
  
"Ah, c'mon Becca. It'd be fun! It's a costume party!"  
  
  
  
  
She looked at him again. Was that suppose to sway her decision, the fact that she had  
  
to maraud about in a costume? "Don't give me a headache, please. Besides, it's  
  
Valentine's Day, what makes you think I'd spend it with you?"  
  
  
  
  
"Ye certainly have a way with woids!" He laughed and stepped closer to her with a  
  
smile. "I won't pretend to know why ya so afraid of bein' yaself, but I'll offer ye  
  
a chance to let loose for once. Ye can go to the dance foist, and then meet up with  
  
Race later. How's that sound?"  
  
  
  
  
"But I don't want to go, Charles!" she said again.  
  
  
  
  
"So what are ye gunna do? Spend the day of Love in a stable with Race? Oh, I'm sure  
  
he'll enjoy that, lass. There's nothing a man wants more than to spend Valentine's  
  
Day with his goil in a place that smells like bloody horseshit!"  
  
  
  
  
Becca turned on him. "How dare you say that, you bastard! You don't know Race! You  
  
don't have any right to judge how he might act!"  
  
  
  
  
"It doesn't take a genius!" he threw back at her. "Do tell, Becca, how many times has  
  
he asked to take ye out somewhere? And how many times have ye refused? And how many  
  
times more do ye have to say no before he finally gives up on ya relationship?"  
  
  
  
  
Her eyes grew sad at the realization. Would Race really abandon her if she kept  
  
turning down his suggestions? Did his constant visits to the stables bore him to the  
  
point in which he would consider ending it with her? She sighed, diverting her gaze  
  
to the floor in embarassment. "It's not that I don't want to go..."  
  
  
  
  
"Give it a chance. What have ye got to lose?"  
  
  
  
  
"I suppose I could try..."  
  
  
  
  
"Great!" he exclaimed, overwhelmed by his victory. "Now all we've to worry about is  
  
our costumes! What do ye suppose I should go as?"  
  
  
  
  
She glared at him. "Go as a jackass, Charles. You wouldn't even have to wear a  
  
costume to go as that." Her smile having broken the intentional insult, she allowed  
  
a light laugh to escape her lips as the boy playfully pushed her aside.  
  
  
  
  
* * * * *   
  
  
  
  
"Lucas, I was under the impression that I didn't have to live on campus if it was  
  
my wish not to!"  
  
  
  
  
Runner hadn't heard the question though. With Mallory's hand in his, he pulled her  
  
through the halls of student masses in search for the room that appeared on the   
  
girl's schedule as her first class. Being a Junior at St. John's, he wasn't too   
  
accustomed with the new remodeled Freshman quarters and couldn't quite find his   
  
way around. "Are you sure this is the class you're in? I don't even think this room   
  
number exists!"  
  
  
  
  
"Lucas, I don't begin my classes today! We have orientation today!"  
  
  
  
  
"Here it is!" He stopped before the door to classroom #164 and folded the schedule  
  
to place back in his pocket. "So, you ready to go in?"  
  
  
  
  
Mallory sighed. "Lucas! You haven't listened to a single word I've said all day!  
  
You're always in a rush and it's driving me crazy! You didn't even let me say goodbye  
  
to Jack this morning because you were in such a hurry! The letter I received says  
  
that I start classes in the fall, the schedule is just to give me an idea of all  
  
the subjects I'll be needing to cover during the summer when I'm assigned a private  
  
tutor. Today I have orientation with all the other new students and you not paying  
  
any attention to me is making me late!"  
  
  
  
  
Runner opened his mouth to say something in defense, but decided against it. He   
  
figured he should be a bit more understanding with her this morning, but he just  
  
couldn't control his happiness and it seemed as if that mistake made him oblivious to  
  
her needs. "I'm sorry," was all he could think to say. He thought to mention that  
  
orientations were always held at noon, but it didn't seem the appropriate time.  
  
  
  
  
"I'm so nervous," she said then, gripping his hand harder as if she only found  
  
strength in him. "I don't like the idea of being on my own in a place where I know  
  
no one! I don't even have a uniform yet and I feel like everyone's looking down at  
  
me. And what's worse, you didn't tell me I had to live in the dormitories!"  
  
  
  
  
"Well, I didn't think you'd care..."  
  
  
  
  
"Didn't care!? Lucas, you know how close me and my father are!"  
  
  
  
  
"You'll still be able to see him after classes and on the weekends," he tried. "It's  
  
not like you live on seprate ends of the continent, Mallory. You're only a few minutes  
  
away from him." All right, he admitted he was being extremely selfish now. In his  
  
pursuit to keep the girl all to himself, he was only cutting her connections with  
  
the only people she had ever loved and befriended.  
  
  
  
  
She pulled his arm around her waist and leaned herself onto him. "I'm so scared. Do  
  
I have to live with roomates then? What if they don't like me?"  
  
  
  
  
"Well, let's find out right now if they do!" He pulled her off again down the halls,  
  
which were near empty now as classes were beginning to start, turned a few corners  
  
that made Mallory lose her sense of direction, and led the girl outside to an area  
  
of the campus she hadn't seen before. The recreation fields upon which the  
  
dormitories were situated, four buildings in total. "The dorms are seperated by class.  
  
Underclassmen stay in the first two, upperclassmen in the last. I think they'll start  
  
you in the tenth grade so you'll be staying in the Auberette House."  
  
  
  
  
He opened the front door for her and then followed behind, allowing his eyes to  
  
adjust to the different lighting. "We can stop by my friend's room; she's on an  
  
arranged absence because she has a fever." Motioning for her to follow, he navigated  
  
a small passageway with doors on each side, one of which he stopped at and knocked  
  
upon.  
  
  
  
  
The door swung open. "What do y- Lucas!" The blonde in the doorway had a face that  
  
brightened ten times more upon seeing the boy before her. "What brings you here?"  
  
  
  
  
"Samantha, can you do me a favor? This is my best friend, Mallory, and she's pretty  
  
much new around here. Do you think you can show her around the place maybe?"  
  
  
  
  
"Sure thing," Samantha replied, her eyes never once leaving Runner's.  
  
  
  
  
"All right, thanks." He turned to Mallory and smiled. "I should be getting to class  
  
before Father Romanik writes me up again for detention. I'll see you at lunch, okay?"  
  
  
  
  
Mallory glanced at Samantha in uncertainty. Something about the girl wasn't right;  
  
the way she looked at Runner made Mallory feel on guard for some reason. She pulled  
  
him to the side out of the earshot of Samantha and whispered to him. "Do you really  
  
have to go?"  
  
  
  
  
"Would you rather I give Romanik one more thing to complain about to my father at  
  
his parent/teacher meeting this evening?"  
  
  
  
  
"But that girl...I don't think she likes me..."  
  
  
  
  
"Who, Samantha? She's practically my sister! You'll be fine, don't worry."  
  
  
  
  
During their hushed conversation, Samantha looked on with an amused grin. What on  
  
earth was Lucas Conlon doing with a girl? 'Today's gossip certainly should be  
  
interesting,' she thought.  
  
  
  
  
* * * * *   
  
  
  
  
Spot swept the hat from atop his head and passed a hand through his hair with an  
  
exhausted sigh. Papers were getting harder and harder to sell each day. It seemed  
  
as if no one cared about the world anymore. People were too caught up in their reign  
  
of materialism to care. "So how was Mal's foist day?"  
  
  
  
  
"Ya never gunna give up, are ya?" Runner had a feeling he wouldn't. The Brooklyn  
  
leader had a perserverance unmatchable to any across the state.  
  
  
  
  
"Of coise not." Once inside Tibby's, Spot nodded at the shouts of greetings he  
  
received from the Manhattan boys and slapped hands with a few who sat nearby.  
  
  
  
  
Runner would've done the same but when his eyes fell on a sight snuggled farther back  
  
in a deep corner of the restaurant, he knew the present happiness would quickly be  
  
extinguished by hate. "Uh, Spot. Didn't youse say something 'bout Snap bein' ya  
  
goil?"  
  
  
  
  
"Yea, why?"  
  
  
  
  
"If she's ya goil, what the hell is she doin' makin' out wid Jack?"  
  
  
  
  
Spot, wrenched free from his distraction, followed the line of sight his younger  
  
cousin pointed out. "That Bitch!" His hands clenched into fists, he marched off   
  
clearly infuriated, shoving away any who stood in his path until he finally approached  
  
the table where Jack and Snap sat together, the girl currently tracing the outline  
  
of the Manhattan leader's ear with her tongue.  
  
  
  
  
"Ya mind explainin' tah me what the fuck is goin' on heah?"  
  
  
  
  
The couple instantly pulled away from eachother; Snap was the first to speak. "Spot!  
  
What is youse doin' heah?!"  
  
  
  
  
"I kinda commute back and foith, but cut the shit, Snap. What gives ya the idea youse  
  
can give ol' Jacky-boy heah a lap dance when youse was beggin' me for some last night?  
  
Ya never told us youse were a lil' whore, sweetheart."  
  
  
  
  
Snap glared at him. "Aw, Spotty, ya didn't think youse were that good in bed, did ya?  
  
What's a goil tah do when the man she's sleepin wid aint got what it takes tah make  
  
her wildest dreams come true?"  
  
  
  
  
"Shut ya damn mouth!" He yelled at her, pointing an accusing finger in her face.  
  
  
  
  
Jack stood up suddenly in one quick motion that made those who were seated around  
  
jump up and back away from the fight they knew was coming. "What gives ya the idea  
  
youse can talk tah me goil like that, Conlon?"  
  
  
  
  
"Ya mean the same goil who I'se was screwin' until two in the mornin' last night?"  
  
  
  
  
Jack balled his hand into a fist and threw a hard blow to Spot's lower jaw, making   
  
the Brooklyn leader fall back to the ground, droplets of blood now splattered on his   
  
lips. "Ya Bastard!" Spot was on his feet half a second later and lunged forward  
  
in an attack that brought him and Jack to the floor in a tangled heap of kicks and  
  
punches.  
  
  
  
  
"Ya ever come near me goil again, Spot, and I swear I'll kill youse!" Jack, now  
  
standing, dragged the boy to his feet and slammed him into a wall. "I don't wanna   
  
heah no more shit about youse takin' her tah bed, ya got that?!"  
  
  
  
  
Spot punched him in the gut and smacked his face with the gold top of his precious  
  
cane. "Ya aint gotta worry 'bout that one, Jack. I aint into the habit of takin'  
  
sluts tah bed anyways." He threw a disgusted look at Snap and proceeded to exit  
  
the restaurant when he was tackled from behind by Jack. This time they crashed into  
  
a table, dishes, glasses, and fragment of a partially-eaten hamburger flying through  
  
the air in a haphazard freefall.   
  
  
  
  
"Stay outta Manhattan, ya heah me?! If I see one of ya scum walkin' this way again,  
  
woids can't describe the agony I'll put 'em through! From now on, Manhattan aint gots  
  
nothin' tah do wid Brooklyn no more!"  
  
  
  
  
"That's fuckin' fine wid me!" Spot dodged one of the boy's swings but didn't see  
  
the second punch that soon connected with his right cheek bone. "That's it! Youse  
  
aint woith me time, Jack! I'se outta this damn hellhole!" He shoved his former best  
  
friend away and barged out, slamming the doors so hard that one of the glass panels  
  
shattered into useless shards.  
  
  
  
  
* * * * *   
YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!!!!!! Finally I wrote another chapter! It's  
been a hectic week for me, lassies. Guess what, though!!! This Wednesday, I am  
auditioning for a part in my school's production of "South Pacific". I hope to at  
least get in the chorus, memorizing all those lines is something I really don't have  
time for. And according to fanfiction.net myth, Reviews=Luck. So how 'bout sending  
me some Good Luck by Submitting those REVIEWS!!!!! w00t w00t!!! C'mon, don't be  
shy! Send them on in!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. Love Ya All! 


	15. You and Lucas Are Awfully Close

DISCLAIMER: These characters do NOT belong to me unfortunately. I tried to kidnap them from Disney and was unsuccessful. Go figure. However, Runner and Mallory are MINE, and so is Josephine, Aunt Patricia, and Daisy! Muahahaha! So take that, Mickey!! OoOogles! I almost forgot Becca and Snap. They's mine too!! BleH! : ) Ah, the list just goes on, there's Mr. Carter too of course. And Vixen...Charles Hutton's mine too. Same applies to Flame and Falcon, Father Romanik, Father Aesop, and Mother Smith.  
  
I finally got Microsoft Word To Work!!!!!!!! Hahaha, FINALLY!!! W00t w00t! So sorry if this format is a little different, I copy and pasted and all that good stuff so there might be a few mishaps, but they'll be worked out soon enough.  
  
~Snuggles: Muahaha, you turned into a therapist now? LoL! OoOgles, I'm sure you'd have fun analyzing Spot and Jack. They'd probably break out and fight right there! Haha! Actually, I went to my auditions with means to ask my teacher to be my accompanimist, but she wouldn't do it, and since I didn't have anyone else, I couldn't audition! They don't let you try out with out accompanying music! *sighs* Ah well...no need to cry over it. Myabe it's for the better. Ah, but your calmer, gentler Spot did stop by with those roses and...well, we got better acquainted. heehee.  
  
~Rhapsody: Haha, those two really need a peace activist to settle them, huh? : ) Though, I don't know how much that would help. Runner & Mallory...eh...this chapter speaks for itself.  
  
~Deanie: Hahaha, I definitely wouldn't mind writing myself in to steal Runner from Mallory...*gives Runner a suggestive look and he dashes away scared*...but I think he likes Mallory alot. Heehee. : ) Yea, Snap seems to revel in all the turmoil she's causing. Crazy kid, we need to keep her chained somewhere in the backyard. Right... so anywho, here's another chaaapTer!  
  
~SportyChik425: "South Pacific" is a boring 2 hour and 47 minute play that I watched the night before my audition, lol. Actually, I couldn't audition because I didn't have an accompaniment *rolls eyes* Spot wanted to beat up the mean ol' teacher but I held him back, haha. Samantha's a cool kid, the reason she's giving RUnner & Mallory those weird looks will be explained in this chapter. Aw, youse is counseling Spot and Jack now? Heehee, they sure need it! *sighs* Onto chapter the next~  
  
~Trek: Snap=the devil Incarnate. LoL! I don't like girls like her either. They're like, heartless...bleH! Charles Charles Charles...yet another enigma. Let's see how Race deals with the mere mention of his name in this chapter...muahha!  
  
~Molly: Heya, thanks for the review! As I tell every newcomer to the Reviewing Bandwagon, New Reviewers rock my world! I'll definitely keep at this story, lol, it's fun to write. Here's another update for youse!  
  
~klutz: OoOgles, a new reviewer!! Cookies to youse, cookies to youse! Itching with anticipation, eh? Excellent, cause here's another update for ya! Jam packed with more confusion on who's ending up with who and of course, a chapter wouldn't be complete without our lovable Runner in it! yaaay! Thanks so much for reviewing!  
  
~racesgurl52787: Dollface, youse is scaring Charles!! Haha, are you going to set a pack of rabid dogs on him or something? Hahaha. Here's another chappie!  
  
~Apollonia: Yea, if you think Snap was being rambunctious last chapter, just wait 'til you see what she has the audacity to do this time around. Tsk tsk tsk, I'm surprised Spot hasn't run her out of town yet. Muahaha.  
  
*Just A Little Bet*  
  
~*~*~*~*~ His eyelids too heavy to keep open and his head spinning from sleep deprivation, Spot Conlon could already envision his bunkbed and the relaxation it would give him once he reclined onto its mattress. He walked the lengths of the docks and noticed a gathering crowd group around two newsies who seemed to be arguing with eachother. The Brooklyn leader sighed. Just once he would love to come home and not have to chastise any of his boys or deal out a few soakings to those who dared defy his rules.  
  
A path was cleared for him as he neared the rambunctious pair, the onlookers growing more and more anxious to see what their leader would do. Spot sensed the nervous tension in the air, but didn't understand what was producing it. His borough had endured countless fights before, why should this one be any different? Pulling away a younger newsie that stood in his way, he finally had a front row view of the brawl and crossed his arms in that authoritative manner that struck fear into any enemy's heart.  
  
One of the fighters, a messenger newsie named Jay, instantly jumped to his own defense. "Spot, lemme explain! I'se wouldn't be fightin' if it weren't fer this damn goil heah who insists that we'se give 'er ya room fer the night. I asked 'er who the hell she thought she was thinkin' she could have ya room, and she started givin' me problems so I'se figured..." He stopped talking when Spot held up a hand and nodded.  
  
"So goily," the leader said, looking over her back like a predator examining its next meal, "youse gunna show yaself or what?"  
  
"Spot, ya tellin' me ya don't recognize a goil youse just slept wid a few days ago?!" The girl took her hat off and spun around in one quick turn, her black hair jumbling down past her shoulders in a graceful flow.  
  
Spot's urbanity shattered. "SNAP! What the hell is YOUSE doin' heah!?"  
  
"Nice tah see youse too, sweetheart. Listen, Jack kinda kicked me outta his place so I'll be needin' somewhere tah stay. Youse gots an extra bed?"  
  
"NO!" He strode off, not wanting to hear her voice again but she only trailed after until she was in step with him.  
  
"Oh, c'mon. Youse aint still upset over what happened at Tibby's, are ya?"  
  
He stopped dead in his tracks and turned on her. "Let's get somethin' straight. Don't think youse is some queen now just 'cause ya played me. It aint nothin' new, dollface. I'se was doin' it long 'fore I met youse. As a mattah of fact, it's one of the things I do best. Ya think I really give a shit though? Hell no!" Remembering his entire brood was watching his every move, Spot lowered his voice. He had to let them know he was still in control, that no one-not even a girl-would have the upper hand in his life. "Go sleep wid as many guys as youse wants, Snap, but don't expect me tah be heartbroken over ya choices. After all, youse is the one who wanted a relationship. I just played along tah humor ya."  
  
As he started to head off to the lodging house again, she stood in his path. There was no way in hell she was going to comply with his unspoken wishes to keep this just between them. For all she cared, Brooklyn and Manhattan combine would know about the things that passed between her and Spot. If he could humiliate her in front of everyone at a restaurant, she had every damn right to do the same to him.  
  
"So, what? Ya just 'humored' me so youse could get some?"  
  
"Aww, ya didn't think I really liked youse, did ya?"  
  
"Ya such a lyin' bastard!" she yelled at him. "If it didn't mean anything tah youse, ya wouldn't have gotten all pissy when ya saw me and Jack together!"  
  
Spot groaned. His boys had started whispering amongst eachother, undoubtedly wondering as to how a girl could make him so uptight. As the legends depicted him, he was suppose to have an infallible demeanor, stone cold suaveness that could never be deterred by any doll. "Get outta me borough, goil. Youse aint welcome heah."  
  
"Why don't youse get off ya high horse fer once and listen tah me?! Yea, I know what I did wasn't exactly the most noblest of things, okay? But I aint askin' fer ya trust, I aint askin' fer ya respect, shit, I aint even askin' ya tah like me! Hate me if it makes ya feel bettah! If youse is so immature that ya can't get over the past, that's ya problem, not mines. Alls I'se askin' fer is a place tah sleep. No, ya highness, not ya bed. Any bed! I just need a roof over me head."  
  
"In that case," he replied, much calmer, "why don't youse try the Bordello in Harlem? I'se shoah they's can accomodate youse."  
  
"UGH!!" While he let out a hearty laugh at his own joke, she glared at him, mentally devising a way of vengeance for the crude remark. Then she thought of something.  
  
"Aint ya muddah ever tell youse tah watch where ya stand?"  
  
Spot arched an eyebrow in confusion and realized all too late what her question was leading to. The girl stepped closer to him with a flirtateous smile and then out of nowhere shoved him away; he stumbled back a step or two and ultimately tripped over the ledge of the docks, falling over and crashing into the waters below with a yell. He resurfaced spitting out water and reached for a nearby ladder. The extra weight of his drenched clothing didn't seem to phase him as he climbed each step and finally stood back on the docks, the glint in his eyes unmistakable. Spot's wrath had officially been provoked.  
  
"So youse make up ya mind yet?" Snap asked, yawning at the over- dramatization.  
  
"Ya wanna be a Brooklyn newsie? Find, youse a Brooklyn newsie...under one condition. Stay outta me way, don't even talk tah me, ya understand? Make it so I'se don't even see ya face at any hour of the day. 'Less ya want a few shinahs of ya own, ya watch yaself, 'cause youse now the number one person on me Hate list."  
  
He left her then, and as she looked around at the boys who remained behind, glaring at her with angry eyes, she had a feeling she was the number one person on their hate lists too.  
  
* * * * *  
  
In the comfort of her own apartment, Becca seemed to relax somewhat. She hadn't the horses to worry about here, nor did she have to deal with the outrageous number of chores Webster daily assigned her. She was like a veteran soldier returning home from the harsh drudgeries of combat to a cottage in some secluded field where he could finally rest and enjoy life as it was meant to be enjoyed.  
  
Race smiled at the girl as she set to preparing him a sandwich. The place was so tidy, as if it were a model home on display. Every object had its own proper setting and nothing was the least bit out of order. A scent of rasberries permeated the air so naturally, the newsie was left to wonder whether Becca was the owner of some magical garden of luscious fruits. The decor wasn't overdone; truthfully, there was very little of it. Save for a few paintings here and there, glass figurines situated about the living room, and antique articles of furniture positioned as the girl liked them, the apartment had an air of contentness about it.  
  
There was one thing that Race did notice, however. Becca didn't have a single photograph displayed anywhere. As earlier stated, there were paintings and such, but no visual recollections of her own past, of the friends and family she had known. This bothered him. When the newsies had gotten their picture on the front page of The Sun during the strike, Jack had actually taken the paper to a small shop to have it framed. Now it hung in the main room of the Manhattan lodging house, ever to remain.  
  
"If I had a place like this," he said, "I don't know where I'd put all me pictures! I'se gots so many of 'em. I'd be afraid tah overpower the room!"  
  
Becca's hand trembled at the comment and as she was currently pouring lemonade into a cup for the boy, she only managed in spilling the pitcher's contents all over the kitchen counters. "I'm so clumsy," she laughed half-heartedly. She grabbed a napkin and soaked up the lemonade with its fabric.  
  
"If youse is clumsy, I hate tah think what I am!" She laughed, but he knew she was still hesitant. "Some people like tah keep 'em in albums, though."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Pictures," he replied matter-of-factly. "I guess they's think they'd get ruined if they kept 'em out in the open, so they buy these huge books and just glue their pictures to the pages."  
  
Becca cleaned her mess, disposed of the napkin, and once again poured the lemonade into the two cups she had set aside; this time there were no accidents. "I finished making the sandwiches, let's sit down and eat."  
  
The dining table was a small wooden one that served its purpose just right despite its lack of dimension. Race pulled out a chair for the girl and smiling at his chivalry, she kissed him on the cheek and then sat down. He joined her for the lunch on the other side of the table and thought of how he could bring up the matter of the pictures a third time without disturbing her.  
  
"Webster wants me to go to a Valentine's Day dance," she said, aware of his intentions and wanting no part in the interrogation. "Charles told me about it the other day and invited me to go with him."  
  
"What did ya say?"  
  
"Well, I didn't want to go at all, but I figured it'd be good for me. You're always saying that I need some adventure in my life." She took a bite out of her sandwich and looked up at him. "Hmm, I forgot the mayonnaise!" But she was so comfortable at the moment that the walk from her seat to the refrigerator seemed much too long a distance. "I'll live with it."  
  
Race leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Wait, so ya spendin' Valentine's wid Charles?"  
  
"Don't look at it like that. When you put it into that context, it sounds like I'm cheating on you-which I'm not! Charles is only a friend, and I use the term loosely. Besides, Webster's practically forcing me to go. He's even bought my costume already! I asked him if I could invite you, but he said it was only for the staff, and so..."  
  
"But Becca, it's the specialest day fer a couple! I wanted tah take youse out tah eat at this great Italian restaurant!"  
  
She suddenly lost her appetite. Pushing away her plate, she bit her bottom lip and tried to avoid Race's pleading look, but his eyes captivated her and she couldn't ignore the hurt in them. "I know, but-"  
  
"No, ya don't know." He got up from his chair, walked up to her side, and took her hand in his. "Becca, I'se been tryin' tah get youse tah spend a day wid me in new places fer weeks now, and at Charles' foist mention of a dance, ya jump up and agree tah go? Am I missin' somethin' heah?"  
  
"I don't have feelings for him, Race," she said, holding his steady gaze. "You're the one I want to be with. Now if it makes you feel better, I'll go back to Webster and see what I can work out. Maybe I'll convince him to let you tag along."  
  
"So long as we'se together, it don't mattah." He smiled at her and then leaned forward for a kiss.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Little by little, Mallory came to forget about her innocent flings with Jack as she now had to fully rely on Runner for companionship and comfort during the long days of orientation at St. John's. When the bells rang for dismissal, Runner somehow managed to be just outside her classroom as she exited the doors. When she couldn't comprehend her lessons for the day, there he was again, always available for tutoring if she were the pupil. Whether it was at lunch, walking on the campus, or studying in the library for a research commision, he was always at her side, a constant friend she could depend on for anything.  
  
It wasn't long before she felt as if their friendship was evolving into something more. Something she had never known with Race, Jack, or Spot. It was the kind of feeling that set butterflies loose in her stomach whenever Runner would walk into her class to deliver a note to the teacher, the kind of feeling that made her cheeks hot whenever he spoke to her in front of her locker when he could've been talking to anyone else. And the way his eyes beheld a twinkle whenever he told her a joke was enough to keep her awake in bed until the late hours of the night. She could hardly pay attention during orientation any longer. Instead, she would dwell on the latest conversation she and the boy shared, reiterating every single word that had been exchanged in her mind.  
  
"You and Lucas are awfully close."  
  
Mallory snapped out of her daydream and focused on the owner of the voice. It was Samantha, stabbing the leaves of her salad with a fork, seemingly uninterested in consuming the food. "We're best friends, yes."  
  
"You going to eat that fish stick?" Mallory shook her head and willingly offered her foodtray to the girl. "Best friends, huh? You both look closer than that."  
  
A brunette with glasses giggled; her name was Jane. "Lucas has admirers and countless acquaintances...but a best friend? I wouldn't be surprised if that was forbidden as well!"  
  
Mallory was about to say something but yet another girl, this one named Alessandra, joined in on the conversation. "Oh, stop the fuss, Jane. His father isn't that strict!"  
  
"I don't know what either of you are talking about, but whether you believe me or not, the fact still stands. Lucas and I are best friends, we care about eachother very much!"  
  
Samantha smiled. "Oh, I'm sure you do." She shared another giggle with Jane and then became serious. "Do tell me, Mallory, do you even know who Lucas Conlon is?" She was answered with a confused look. "I didn't think so. Which one of you girls wants to break the news?"  
  
"I'll do it!" Jane volunteered, maybe a bit too eager. She folded her hands before her and began. "Mallory, dear, I hope this doesn't come to you as much of a shock, but truth is, Lucas is the high priest's son."  
  
"So what?"  
  
Alessandra's eyes widened. "So what?! Does that mean nothing to you? Don't you get it? There's no way in hell you're going to get any closer to that boy than you already are. Basically, you can't have him, no girl can. And that just makes him all the more wanted."  
  
"Don't think you're the first to try," said Jane. "There was a girl who came before you, her name was Kristine. Everyone knew how much those two were in love!" She sighed. "If they didn't make such a cute couple, I'm sure every girl would've been insane with jealousy. Lucas treated her like a princess; it was adorable! But then someone hinted the relationship to Father Conlon and all hell broke loose."  
  
Samantha broke in. "It was during English class, I think. We were all sitting peacefully, writing down lecture notes when all of a sudden Father Conlon storms into the room and begins yelling at Lucas at the top of his lungs. And this was actually during class session! He goes on screaming 'don't you dare disgrace your church' and you keep your eyes focused, boy'! It was horrible! We all just sat there and stared at Lucas, waiting for him to snap and yell back. But he never did. With a 'yes sir' he only nodded and when his father left the classroom, there was nothing but silence."  
  
"I remember the look on his face that day," Jane said. "It was beyond humiliation."  
  
Mallory was horrified. How could a father do such a thing to his own son?! She covered her gaping mouth with a hand and thought. "What happened between Lucas and the girl?"  
  
"Oh, Kristine? Father Conlon had her dismissed from the school on the grounds that she was a disturbance to the overall student body. It was two weeks before Lucas started talking again."  
  
"So when we ask you what's going on between you and him, it's only because we're concerned for the both of you," Samantha confessed. "You're a sweet person, very likable, and you don't deserve to be kicked out because you fell for a boy. But even more importantly, Lucas doesn't deserve to go through the mental torture his dad's put him through."  
  
Jane nodded. "So flirt with him all you want like the Junior girls do in the hallways. You can trust him to know when it's safe to play around. But don't ever go any farther than that. If only for his sake."  
  
* * * * *  
  
YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAW!!!! Another Chapter FinaLLy!!! Sorrie the update took sooooo LONG!!! School is sucking nickels right now so I'm jampacked busy! ARG!! But if you all fish me some reviews, I might be motivated to write faster...no I WILL be motivated to write faster!!! Thanks so much for all who reviewed last chapter!!! Love Ya All! 


	16. First Hangovers

DISCLAIMER: These characters do NOT belong to me unfortunately. I tried to kidnap them from Disney and was unsuccessful. Go figure. However, Runner and Mallory are MINE, and so is Josephine, Aunt Patricia, and Daisy! Muahahaha! So take that, Mickey!! OoOogles! I almost forgot Becca and Snap. They's mine too!! BleH! : ) Ah, the list just goes on, there's Mr. Carter too of course. And Vixen...Charles Hutton's mine too. Same applies to Flame and Falcon, Father Romanik, Father Aesop, and Mother Smith.  
  
A.N. We're Breaking 150!!!!!!!!!!! We're Breaking 150!!!!!!! AHHHHHHHHH!!!! W00t w00t! I think there's something wrong with fanfiction.net because it's counting my reviews wrong, or is counting them too slow. But we're on 150!!! WOOOOHOOOOO!!! THANKS SOOO MUCH!!! YaaaaY, lot's of reviews!!! So keeping true to my promise, here's a Wednesday update!!! Awww, I just watched Gladiator for the millionth time and it still makes me cry. Russel Crowe's soooo cUte! Heehee. Welperz, hope ya like chapter 16!  
  
~Snuggles: w00t w00t! I hope that update comes soon! I want to read more of "Visitors from the Past"-and that second one you started writing. I really liked that one too. Hahaha. More Spot/Jack sessions! You're good at this, Snugs!  
  
~Apollonia: Haha, Jack will be in this chapter. : ) And as for whether Samantha and crew were telling the truth, they were. Runner will actually get mad at her in this chapter because of that.  
  
~Rhapsody: It certainly does seem as if Samantha is telling lies, doesn't it? *thinks* Unfortunately, they're not. Aww, you'll console him? Heehee. I'm sure he wouldn't mind that, though Mallory might. : )  
  
~Skittles: Heya Skits, hope your sister's doing better. My dad had surgery a few weeks ago and I wasn't able to update for a while; I know how it is. Anywho, thanks for the review! W00t w00t!  
  
~geometrygal: Alrite, two reviews in one shot! *dances on her chair* You'll like this chapter mucho; there's more Runner/Mallory cuteness in it! : ) Enjoy!  
  
~racesgurl52787: Hahaha, a chat with Father Conlon, eh? That'd be funny! He'd probably just stare at you. I think Charles is too scared to do anything with Becca with girls like you on the loose. ^_^ Thanks for reviewing!  
  
~cjd: Charade...hmm, I like that word. I think I might use it in some later chapter. Well, as I tell everyone else, I LoVe new reviewers! Thanks so much for reviewing; I'm glad you're enjoying the story so far. : )  
  
~Angel: I can't believe Spot took Snap in either! Grrr. I don't know if the Brooklyn newsies will beat her up, but I know Spot is going to Hate her to death, lol. The "line", as we so lovingly refer to it as, will come about in Chapter 20 probably. Alotta things have to happen before then. Ya wanna be a character in this, huh? Email me your character's profile and I'll see what I can finagle. : )  
  
~Shortie: d00d, you're weird. Hahaha. But who isn't weird these days, right? Poor Everybody! *cries* Besides Snap of course. She's just being her evil self again. And as for Becca...haha. She'll cheer up eventually and her past is even revealed soon!  
  
~Trek: Snap got told, lol! Glad you took pleasure in that! : ) Yea, poor Jack kicked her sorry behind out. She broke his heart one too many times. But anywho, I know I'M jealous of Runner and Mallory! Hahaha. "Lily, it's just a story..." *chases after her muses with a rolled up newspaper. "I know THAT!"  
  
~Deanie: Heehee, Mallory and Runner are like, the only functional couple in this whole story but can't be together because of mean ol' Father Conlon. *sigh* I was just thinking about who Jack would end up and I have no idea! Same goes for Spot! LoL! Ah well, I'll have to figure it out. Thanks for the review!  
  
~Southern Spell: Keep writing I shall. Here's another update! Hope ya like it.  
  
*Just A Little Bet*  
  
~*~*~*~*~ Jack pounded a fist on one of the stall doors of his lodging house's wash room, a line of his newsies standing behind him in sour moods. "Mush, would youse unlock the door already?! Ya been in there fer an hour!" A voice from inside made a mumbling reply, followed by a gagging sound.  
  
Race stepped out from the crowd and approached Jack with a worried face. "What the hell is he doin' in there?"  
  
"This, my friend," answered Jack as he turned around to address the rest of his Manhattan boys, "is what I'se call ya foist hangover." Blink threw back his head in laughter and applauded at the announcement. He had been trying to get Mush to drink for months now! The younger boy always preferred pop or simply water instead.  
  
"Mush!" It was now Race's turn to yell though the door. "Some of us heah need tah make a deposit in the toilet bank, if ya know what I mean!" The room exploded into vociferous guffaw; even Jack couldn't resist taking the joke to heart.  
  
"Heya fellahs, uh........." Bumlets' nodded his head to the open doorway of the bunkroom, his eyes fixated on the slender girl who stood there, unamused and seemingly annoyed by something. A series of low whistles naturally broke out, so that one would think the newsies had never found themselves in the company of a young lady until now, but Jack waved his hands at them and forced them to discontinue the catcalling.  
  
The Manhattan leader closed the distance between him and the girl in steady strides, his grey eyes unreadable. "So Vixen, what brings ya tah the bettah side of the bridge?" He knew she was a Brooklynite, a former playmate of Spot's, and he was fully expecting the girl to be here on the sole basis of delivering a message.  
  
"Ya goily Snap moved in and it's been nothin' but sheer torture. Youse have no idea how much I wish she would just die! It was bad enough wid her floitin' wid Spot day by day like the lil' slut she is. Now they friggin' argue every 10 minutes and it's drivin' me insane! Ya know what I mean? I just, hate 'er!"  
  
"That makes two of us then," he laughed. The stall door behind him creaked open and out walked a fatigued Mush, his face soaked with sweat and his legs wobbling with no coordination. He would have collapsed to the floor, but Race and Blink managed to catch him then, patting their friend on the back for enjoying one of his first manly experiences.  
  
Vixen arched an eyebrow at the display. "I see things is the same no mattah where ya are. Lemme guess, foist hangover?" Jack nodded, quite impressed. "Well I can't stand another night in Brooklyn. Spot's a bastard and I aint got enough profane woids in me vocabulary tah describe Snappy. Ya think I could hitch a stay heah?"  
  
Mush was just made aware of the girl's presence and wiped the small drops of vomit from his lips in a quick hand movement. Blink punched his arm playfully with another laugh. "She's a real lookah, aint she Mush?"  
  
Jack appreciated the fact that the girl had at least asked to be lodged rather than demand she be given a bed. But she looked like the troublemaker type, just as Snap had been. Would he regret taking her in? "Shoah, so long as ya keep the peace, huh?"  
  
"I aint got no problem wid that," she said. "That's what I came heah for. Peace and quiet."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Sam, I can't believe you told her about that!" Runner kicked a locker in anger and turned to face the girl. "It's none of her business what happened between me and my father a year ago!"  
  
"Obviously your father doesn't think so," Samantha retorted. "I'm only looking out for the both of you. Until you learn how to stand up to him, it's the least I can do."  
  
Runner clenched his jaw at the insult. "I don't need your input on whether I need to stand up to him or not."  
  
"I'm giving it to you in any case. He had no right to embarrass you like that! When are you going to tell him off, Lucas? When are you going to stop letting him control your life?"  
  
"Stay out of it, okay? I don't need your help." He leaned back against the lockers with a smile. "Look, there she comes."  
  
Samantha rolled her eyes. When was he going to get his head out of the clouds and face the reality of the situation? No matter how much Mallory liked him and vice versa, it wasn't going to change the fact that Father Conlon would forbid the relationship.  
  
Mallory slowed her steps when she saw the blonde girl aside Runner. She still wasn't sure about Samantha, though it had nothing to do with the merit of the lunchtime story she had shared concerning the high priest and his fanatical policies. Mallory actually had asked a few of the Junior acquaintances she had made during orientation about the event; it seemed as if the whole student body knew of that fateful day when Father Conlon blew up on his son in public. "Good Morning, Lucas...and Samantha," she said as cheerfully as her current temperament permitted. Being candid with herself, she couldn't deny the twinge of jealousy that was steadily crawling through her subconscious.  
  
"Heya cutie," Runner said before pulling her into a quick hug. "How was your day?"  
  
"It was good," she replied, feeling nervous under Samantha's watchful gaze.  
  
The boy caught her mistrust. "Uh, Sami? You think you can..."  
  
"Yea, yea yea." Sighing at the sight of the potential couple, she walked off into the crowds of students, most probably on her way to gossip some more with Alessandra and Jane.  
  
Runner laughed after the girl and shook his head. He wished he could hate her, but she only spoke the truth. And as annoying as she could be at times, she was still the closest thing to a sister he'd ever have. He looked down at Mallory. "You hear about the Valentine's Dance?"  
  
She smiled. "Of course! That's all the girls in my class have been talking about! How they want a certain someone to ask them, what dresses they'll wear, how they'll wear their hair."  
  
"I'm sure some lucky guy has already asked you then." He nodded his head at two of his friends who were passing by and slapped hands with a third.  
  
"No, not really." Feeling herself blush, she looked down at her shoes and let the redness fade away. Was he going to ask her out? She'd been asked out before, but it had never been this nerve-wrecking! Her heart was practically palpitating, ready to jump out of her chest into his hands.  
  
"Did you want to go with anyone in particular?" he asked, looking for something to distract him from confronting her one on one. "I mean, were you hoping someone in particular would ask you?"  
  
Mallory made the mistake of looking into his eyes then and lost any coherency she might have had. "I, uh..., I uh...I wanted to go with... you, but I'd rather meet your parents first."  
  
"What's the purpose in that?"  
  
"I'd just like to meet them first."  
  
"I'm sure they'll both be fine with it, Mallory," he lied. "Besides, I didn't mean the school dance. This club in Queens is supposed to be hosting the biggest dance yet, and I thought I'd only take you to the best. So how about it?"  
  
The girl wasn't so quick to answer. It was her heart's desire to say yes, yet would that be wise? If Father Conlon went on another rampage and decided to suspend her from St. John's, her dreams of attending school would be shattered. Worse of all, she'd be torn away from Runner! "I'd love to go. I'm not sure if it's a rational thing to do, however."  
  
"I'm going to pretend like I didn't hear that last sentence," he laughed. "So tomorrow around six in the evening, okay? See you then, Mallory!"  
  
"Lucas!" But he wouldn't turn around for fear that she would reject him. "That boy will be the death of me!"  
  
* * * * *  
  
"That's not fair!" Becca exclaimed. "I don't want to go to the dance with Charles! I don't even know him that well. I'd sooner label him a complete stranger than a friend. If I could go with Race though..."  
  
Webster shook his head. "Nonsense. You'll go with Charles and have more fun than you've ever had."  
  
"I highly doubt that, mister."  
  
The man laughed. After all these years, Becca still deemed it necessary to address him so properly. One would think that after the girl had been with him for a fourth of her life, she'd feel eased enough to talk with him as she would a father. But no. He supposed she was still mourning her past. "You don't even know this Race fellow from beans. How can you be so sure of him?"  
  
"Because he cares about me; he said so. And I know that he's telling the truth." Her heart was still wavering over the matter, but something was telling her she was right in saying that. Race did care for her.  
  
"I've known Charles and his family a year now," was Webster's reply. "They're kind and well-mannered people and I know Charles will be a good escort for you."  
  
Becca had a feeling that she wasn't being listened to. She didn't want to attend the dance with Charles! How many times would she have to declare it? "Why can't you let Race go? I know it's only for the Sheepshead staff, but can't you make an exception? He's a wonderful guy, and I'm sure you'd like him just as much as you do Charles."  
  
Even so, Webster was still not convinced. The girl was like a daughter to him; ever since he had first taken her in she had always been so. He took it upon himself to shelter her, feed her, employ her with a job she loved, and protect her-the last charge not being fulfilled if he let her run off with some newsboy off the streets.  
  
"Becca, it's only one day that I'm asking you to do this. One day out of the whole year. Is that too much?"  
  
When he put it like that, she knew she couldn't refuse his invitation. "So he can't simply come along?"  
  
"I'm not even the one hosting the party," he explained. "The Track owners across New York are joining together; it's more of a banquet. As a manager, I'm only allowed two guests. You and Charles. I'm sorry but that's the way it is, dear." He gave her an apologetic look and then excused himself to go tend to a customer.  
  
Becca plopped down onto a stack of hay with a whine. What was she going to tell Race now? He'd surely hate her for not being strong enough to dissuade Webster from making her go to the dance with Charles. And with Valentine's Day mere hours away...She let out a cry and kicked the dirt at her feet. Life was rather unfair at times.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Spot studied the hand of cards before him with a resolute demeanor, determined to not give in to the excitement he felt presently. He was up against one of Brooklyn's best card players, a kid called Scapegoat, and the pile of money before the two was a staggering amount that exceeded seventeen dollars and ninety two cents. Originally there had been eight players, but when the stakes rose to great and dizzying heights, the boys involved had excused themselves from the game disappointed.  
  
"How 'bout we'se just both contribute tah the prize tah bring the baby up tah twenty, eh?" Scapegoat counted one dollar and four cents from his pocket and threw it onto the table's center. When Spot mirrored his actions, he sat on the edge of his seat and rubbed his cards between his fingertips. "Okay, Spot. Let's make this quick." He laid his cards one by one in front of him, revealing three of a kind.  
  
Spot smirked. He leaned his chair back on two legs and yawned, as if the game had been a piece of cake. Then, arranging his cards into a semi-circle formation so that the numbers and suits were visible to everyone, he fanned himself and shrugged. "I win again, Scape." He had a straight.  
  
The Brooklyn newsies applauded their leader; even Scapegoat joined in the recognition. Meanwhile, Spot was collecting his winnings and basking in the glory when loud footsteps thumped down the stairs accompanied by a nagging voice.  
  
"These damn stairs," said the borough's newest grouch, Snap. "Why don't ya use that money and fix this shithole up? What kinda leadah are youse anyways? Subjectin' ya newsies to this kinda crap? Those stairs is about tah fall down!"  
  
"When I want ya opinion, I'll give it tah youse," Spot replied. The girl had been a resident in his lodging house for a little over twenty-four hours and was already managing to crawl under his skin with the utmost annoyance. Paying no heed of his warning to her to not bother him in any way seen fit, she barked at him whenever given the chance and devised countless ways to debase the leader in front of his admirers. She was a pestilence to the Brooklynites, a festering plague that threatened to disrupt their harmony and union.  
  
She laughed sarcastically and gave him a nasty look. "Ya think youse can control everyone on ya turf, huh? Ya nothin' but a damn manipulator, Conlon! Ya lil' boys heah is nothin' but puppets on strings!"  
  
Scapegoat jumped to his feet. "You mess with Spot, you mess with Brooklyn. I've had about enough of your shit as I can handle. If I was into soaking girls, I'd bust all your teeth out right now!" He beat a clenched fist into his open hand and glared at her. Several other boys backed him up, yelling insults at the girl and threatening her to make one last move so that they might strike her.  
  
"That's enough!" It wasn't a yell; Spot barely raised his voice. But everyone knew that a command, whether whispered or shouted, was a command nonetheless and they quieted down instantly. He studied Snap with curiosity. Why was she going to the extreme of making herself susceptible to hatred just to piss him off so much? All he knew was that the task was tiring. Every debate involving two opposing arguments was theirs for the taking and they would scream and curse at each other for hours at a time. Was it really worth it, though? "Snap, I don't know what the hell is ya problem but I'se this close tah chainin' ya up tah a pole and lettin' me boys beat the crap outta youse."  
  
"Of coise. Let 'em do the doity woik while the lil' prince sits back and relaxes on his throne of crates! What'sa mattah? Aint cut out tah do it yaself?"  
  
He smirked. "That aint it at all, sweetheart. I'se afraid that if I was the one doin' it, I'd end up killin youse in thoity seconds flat."  
  
At first she thought he was merely joking, yet when his expression never changed she grew worried, and the silence that followed where there should have been laughter pierced her heart with fear. She looked into the faces of the boys nearby, a little too nearby if she had anything to say about it. It was as if they were all conspiring against her at the moment. She needed to get out of that room as soon as possible. However, she wouldn't leave with a lack of dignity, for just like Spot she had her pride to consider. She turned her gaze back to him, flicked him off, and spit onto the floor of the main room. Then wordlessly, she turned on her heels and proceeded to show herself out.  
  
One didn't have to be seated at the poker table to see Spot's neck veins tighten with rage. Suddenly, he scooted back his chair and advanced towards the girl ready to attack her. "Snap, stop walkin' and face me!" he yelled at her backside.  
  
"Why?" she asked as she slowly did as he asked. "Because everyone has tah obey ya worshipfulness? Ya so full of it, Spot! Ya think ya so big and bad but ya nothin' but a lousy street rat!"  
  
"That aint what youse were sayin' the other night," he said, loud enough for the others to hear this time. He figured he might as well let them in on the inner story. She gasped and raised her hand to slap him but he caught it in midair before her fingers could reach his face and pulled her forward so that she fell onto her knees. "Aww, youse aint so tough now when ya meet someone who aint gunna take ya crap, are ya? Ya know what, Snappy? I kind like ya in this position...ya know, on ya knees and all."  
  
The Brooklyn newsies snickered in mocking tones and Spot let them. Snap had crossed the borders of respect and she deserved all that was coming to her. She snatched her hand away and kept her eyes focused on the floor.  
  
"Heya Snap, youse that fiery in bed?"  
  
"Conlon, ya mind if I borrow 'er fah a night?"  
  
"Nah, ya don't want that trash. Ya bettah off screwin' a doity whore."  
  
Spot sneered at the remarks, watching Snap's face the whole time, reveling in the fact that the tables were finally turning and that she was now the one receiving the heavy blows. She stumbled to her feet and addressed them all. "Youse can all go tah fuckin' hell fer all I'se care!" As she slammed open the front doors and disappeared down the docks, the newsies were overwhelmed by their success, and even though Spot joined them in the celebration, he couldn't help but feel some kind of remorse for having wounded the girl so deeply. He quickly brushed away the feeling.  
  
* * * * * !!!!!!!ATTENTION!!!!!!! WOoOoOoO!! At the end of another chapter, you all know what THAT means!!!! REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW! We're on 150, goils!!! This is GREAT! Let's keep up the good work!!! I have a little GAME for this ROUND of REVIEW-MANIA. Let's set up a little, VOTE, hmm? VOTE VOTE VOTE!!! Here's the topic for this time around. "Who's your FAVORITE character and WHY?!" Muahaha! The results will be featured in a future chapter, maybe in the 17th or 18th. So send in your VOTE today!!! Thank Ye! Love ya All! 


	17. Just A Little Bet

DISCLAIMER: These characters do NOT belong to me unfortunately. I tried to kidnap them from Disney and was unsuccessful. Go figure. However, Runner and Mallory are MINE, and so is Josephine, Aunt Patricia, and Daisy! Muahahaha! So take that, Mickey!! OoOogles! I almost forgot Becca and Snap. They's mine too!! BleH! : ) Ah, the list just goes on, there's Mr. Carter too of course. And Vixen...Charles Hutton's mine too. Same applies to Flame and Falcon, Father Romanik, Father Aesop, and Mother Smith.  
  
A.N. I'm BAAAAAAAAAAACK!!! Yea I know, I just won the award for 'author who took like a year to update her story'. LoL, my deepest apologies. ^_^ And now I have to write like, a trillion shout-outs, but that's OKAY! I LOVE REVIEWERS!!! Ships out chocolate-covered newsies to all who reviewed. Talk about records, last chapter got like over 16 reviews or something. Mucho Thanks! Hahaha.  
  
~POLL RESULTS POLL RESULTS POLL RESULTS POLL RESULTS!!!!!!~  
  
Alright, goils. The moment youse all has been waitin' for. Who is the FAVORITE newsie in me story??? *DRUM ROLL* And the Winner at SEVEN Votes is...*frantically opens the sealed card*..LUCAS 'RUNNER' CONLON!!!!! *massive applause* Congratulations, Runner. *Runner blows kisses to all his fans* ^_^ Awww.  
  
Jack Came in second with Three votes, Spot in third (OMG, Spot lost, lol. That was soooo unexpected) with Two votes, and Race in fourth with One. ^_^ *Spot glares at Runner and Jack* LoL! Thanks to everyone who voted!!! Wheeeee, see ya at the next POLL!!!  
  
Shout-outs: WoWzerZ, I seriously want to update this before anyone sends me any more threats to kidnap Runner from my house, lol, so I really don't have time to write out all the shout-outs that I want, but I WILL next chapter! Forgive ME! Special thanks to: I.M. Wienner, asp, Angelfish, xiao long nu, Technicolor Dreamgirl, cjd, Lindsay, Deanie, klutz, skittles, Lanen, Drama-Queen, geometrygal, Apollonia, Dimples, Rhapsody, Trek, Angel!!! THANKS SO MUCH FOR REVIEWING!!!  
*Just A Little Bet*  
  
~*~*~*~*~ For those of you who last read this story weeks ago or who have forgotten exactly what's been going on, here's a brief recap. Naturally, Spot, Race, and Jack made the little bet to see who could win over Mallory first, but eventually Race drops out after having met Becca-a girl who works at the Sheepshead stables whose past is forcing her to push away the ones she loves and bottle up her feelings inside. Soon after, the friendship Spot and Jack once upheld is torn apart when a girl named Snap (remember, she's the one that half of you want me to kill off, lol) comes between them. We later learn that Snap has intentions of her own which include playing the two leaders to win her own bet, but she's finally humbled by Spot in front of all the Brooklyn newsies. Meanwhile, our dear Runner and Mallory are steadily falling for each other at the private school they both attend. Unfortunately, the only thing that stands in the way of their going out is Father Conlon, whose overprotective nature forbids Runner from having any relationship with a girl whatsoever. On a side note, Mush had his first hangover last chapter. ^_^ And thus, we continue our tale on beloved Valentine's Day...  
  
"I look like the angel from some pre-school Christmas play!" Becca frowned at her reflection as she stood before the mirror in Mr. Webster's office to put the final touches on her costume for the Valentine Dance she and Charles would be attending within the coming minutes. She had originally wanted to go as a medieval princess but her salary wasn't favoring her desires these days and she was in the end forced to settle with simple white linens and a pair of crooked wings as her garb. Charles decided to play along and purchased Roman attire, complete with a toga, Caesar leaves, and sandals. Mr. Webster was going as himself.  
  
"Ye look fine, love," Charles replied as he adjusted the white suit he wore under his toga; he certainly did not intend on dallying about at a social with merely a blanket wrapped about his body. "Don't worry much 'bout it, ay? It's Valentine's Day after all. A lass like ye shouldn't be worried 'bout looks."  
  
The girl rolled her eyes even though she knew he was only trying to help and proceeded to slide white slippers onto her feet. She didn't necessarily like exposing her toes for they often became rather cold when not covered by socks but she doubted angels walked around heaven with stable boots.  
  
It would've been quite a walk to venture from Manhattan to the host's abode in Queens, but Mr. Webster paid the fees for a horse carriage and had himself and the two youth transported to the social in no time. All the while, Becca could only think of Racetrack. How was he spending the acclaimed day of love? Was he feeling lonely? Had he found himself a companion? She shook the thoughts out of her head; he would never do such a thing!  
  
"Are ye comin', lass?" Becca looked down to her right where Charles was standing on the street curb holding his hand out to her. Still seated in the carriage, she glanced up at the building before her, a towering edifice decorated with red tinsel and heart-adorned banners. Apparently, this was the place the party was to be held. She lifted the ends of her gown and helped herself out of the carriage, ignoring Charles' offer of assistance.  
  
"How long is this thing gunna last?" she muttered as they stepped forward to enter into the building.  
  
Charles sighed at her lack of enthusiasm. Was she always going to lock herself into a box seething with ennui? "Are ye daft? I bet you're gunna love this party so much that ya'll lose track of the time!"  
  
"I don't see that happening, Charles, but I won't dampen your spirits." She followed after Mr. Webster as he led the would-be couple into the throngs of middle-class folk and aristocrats cluttered about the dance floor like flies around a beacon of light. She thought she might become lost in the masses, and it didn't help that she felt as if every eye were glued onto her, as if she were some creature that had just come out of its hibernation to meet the new world. The attention was nerve-wracking. She tried to hide behind Charles but he seemed to revel in the notice and she didn't want to deprive him of any fun he might be experiencing.  
  
When Webster left to speak with some comrades, she thought she'd be safe simply lounging about at the beautifully prepared tables that lined the outlines of the dance hall, but Charles insisted that she join him for a dance at least once. She felt an obligation to indulge him, though knew not what the feeling derived from. Perhaps it was merely the realization that his efforts to befriend her with in sync with her attempts to shut him down. At last accepting his requests, they danced to three songs, each finding that the other wasn't that bad a person.  
  
"I'm kind of tired right now," said Becca at one point during the night. "I'm gunna sit down, alright?" Charles nodded and the girl walked off to the table she had unofficially claimed as her own. Three young men were seated there but she assumed they would excuse their selves upon recognizing the table was already taken. However, as she neared them, they instead stood to their feet and blocked her path.  
  
"Hey there, sweet face," the tallest one greeted with a grin. He was dressed as a vampire, complete with flowing cape and bloodied canine teeth. "Can I steal a dance from ya?"  
  
Becca backed away from him seemingly disgusted. "You can try, but I'll guarantee that I'll give you a nice shiner before you put your hands on me."  
  
The other two boys laughed at the obvious rejection but immediately silenced when their leader gave them a stern glare. One dressed as a king grabbed Becca's hand and tugged on it. "Oh come on, darling. It aint gunna kill you to give us a dance. We're just a few guys looking for a good time."  
  
"Then dance with each other!" She pulled her hand away and tried to push pass the troublemakers, but the third one, this one impersonating a Union soldier, clutched her shoulders and pulled her up to his chest with a laugh that repulsed her. "I don't think you're getting the idea," he hissed into her face. "Ya see, what we really wanna do...is you!"  
  
And then he pressed his lips against hers with the utmost vulgarity, his hands trailing up her abdomen headed for a sacred destination until he was suddenly pushed away by a strength he didn't think the girl capable of possessing. Becca wiped her lips with an arm and then clenching her hand into a fist, forcefully sent a blow into the boy's teeth. He tripped over himself backwards and ultimately fell to the ground where he nursed a bleeding mouth.  
  
The vampire-dressed boy came forward threateningly. "Whore!" He raised a hand to strike the girl, but the punch was caught midair by some young man that stepped into the middle of the fight without warning.  
  
"Ye shouldn't be talking 'bout ya muddah like that, lad." Charles grinned at the boy and then shoved him away from Becca, a push that threw him into a table with a shattering crash. There was a momentary conversational hiatus in the socializing being carried out by those adults gathered near the riot, but soon the party resumed and the conflict was forgotten. The other two boys backed away from this new threat and tended to their fallen comrade.  
  
Charles turned to his companion, worry written all over his face. He had seen Becca confronted by the trio of boys while on the dance floor with a friend of his and had rushed to the girl as soon as he could. "Are ye okay, lass?"  
  
"Yea...yea I am," she smiled at him. "Thank you..."  
  
"Ya aint gotta thank me, love. That's what friends are for, ay?"  
  
She nodded. "Uhm, Charles, do you think you can tell Webster I had to leave early? I'm a bit shaken by what just happened and...well, I think I want to head back home. Besides, you'd probably have a better time not having to watch out for me and all." He opened his mouth to object but she held up a hand to stop him. "I'll be fine, I just need some rest. Please?"  
  
When he relented, she exited the dance hall calmly, trying to compose herself all the while, but as soon as she had left the building she broke down into tears. The one night she opened up her emotions after so many years of keeping them restrained, it had only proven folly. She knew she shouldn't have gone to the party, she knew it! Why did she let Webster and Charles sway her decision, why didn't she stand firm in her choices?  
  
"I need to talk to Race." The thought hit her of a sudden. She needed to let it all out once and for all. She needed to unleash the pain and set it free. She didn't want to bear it for the rest of her life; someone had to know.  
  
A single drop of rain precipitated from the heavens and splattered onto her forehead. Seconds later it was followed by hordes of raindrops, as if heaven's host was crying with her. She stood there in the streets feeling absolutely miserable; of all the costumes she had to wear, it had to be a white one.  
  
From a trash can tipped over onto the sidewalk she pilfered a raggedy wool blanket and with this she covered herself. Then she kicked off her shoes and began the long run back to Manhattan. She was surprised by the speed at which she jogged; it was as if she were some marathon racer adopting a forgotten bolt of energy. It didn't take too long before she was standing in front of the Manhattan lodging house, soaking wet and panting like a hunting dog.  
  
She creaked the doors open slowly, hoping the ear-piercing screech would not sound as loudly as it warned. She had no such luck. By the time the door was fully open with her in the doorway, all eyes were on her. She bit her lip in embarrassment and looked down at her feet. "Uhm..."  
  
"Becca!" She recognized the voice as Race's and her eyes shot up to meet his own from across the dimly-lit room. The Italian jumped up from the seat where he was gathered with a few pals to play some rounds of poker and closed the distance between them in an excited march. "Becca! What is youse doin' heah?"  
  
She let him kiss her on the lips and blushed when the boys watching whistled and congratulated their friend. "Race, is there somewhere we can go to be alone?"  
  
"Well, no one's in the bunkroom right now." He gently took her hand in his and led her up the staircase to where the sleeping quarters were located, but not before receiving a few more hollers and catcalls from the newsies. He shook his head with a smile. "Ah, ya learn tah love those bums."  
  
As he had said, the bunkroom lacked any occupants whatsoever. Race led her to his own bed and plopped down onto the mattress, pulling the girl down onto his lap so that he could wrap his arms around her waist. "So what brings ya heah, babe? I thought youse had tah go tah some hoo-hah party." He brought his lips to her neck and trailed kisses down its smooth skin.  
  
"Race, I need your full attention for what I want to tell you." He looked up at her then, confused. The tone of her voice dripped with a serious air that scared him. Was something the matter? Was their a deeper reason why she was here?  
  
"What'sa mattah, Becca?"  
  
She sighed. "Race, I think it's about time I tell you about my past..."  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
The tenements were still of decrepit structure like she had remembered them, still gigantic edifices that not only housed the lower classes but also hatred, malice, and deceit. Children in filthy rags played on the walks just outside the building, their faces dirtied with tears and mud, the toys they played with simple objects that any other human would have thought useless. Snap watched them with curious eyes and recalled how she once found amusement in the simplest things; a paper bag could entertain her for hours on end. But that was the way of the poverty- stricken in a world like hers. One had to make do with what one had.  
  
She noticed an elderly woman peering out a window, all but one glass pane missing, with what seemed to be alert. Snap narrowed her eyes in open defiance. No doubt the old hag was sure to gossip with her social circle about the return of the 'town whore'.  
  
"If only they knew the whole story," the girl muttered to herself bitterly. She hated this place. She hated the memories, the people, the past that it represented. Most of all, she hated the future it would have meant had she not run away those long years ago.  
  
Once inside the apartment building, she crinkled her nose in disgust at the odor that lingered about like a foul ghost. It was a smell like decaying wood. "No," she said, changing her mind. "More like a rotting body." And the air, how stuffy it was! She almost believed she wouldn't be able to breathe were it not for the main room window that was propped open by a small lever.  
  
She walked further into the halls, taking in all that she saw. From the looks of it, conditions had worsened since her leave. Things looked as if a hurricane had torn through the edifice, sent by Mother Nature to destroy. Snap shook her head sadly.  
  
Then she saw the gold address, the letter rusted with stains that looked like a leper's spots. "1D." The apartment she had grown up within since infancy. The door was open, but that was no surprise for around these parts, possessions were more common property than anything else.  
  
Upon entering, she was met with the hard smell of liquor and the darkness of an abode that knew no light. She closed the door behind her slowly and studied the place before her in efforts to find anything of familiarity. "The couch," she whispered solemnly. A white love seat, when she was five years old she had spilt grape juice onto its fabric, thus enraging her father to the point in which he smacked the girl several times across the face until she bled and screamed for mercy.  
  
She took another step into the room. "The lamp's still there, though." It was a lamp missing its crystal shade, this being because around her seventh year, Snap had been engaged in a game of tag with her sisters when she had clumsily bumped into the object and sent it crashing to the floor. And once again, her father had gone on a vendetta, personally seeing to it that the girl was beaten until the lesson of 'no horseplay' was engraved into her conscious.  
  
"Excuse me, what are you doing here?" A girl looking to be about fourteen years of age appeared from the kitchen. Snap turned around to regard her, but the other spoke up instantly. "Natasha!" She ran up to her older sister and thrust herself into an embrace with the girl. "Natasha, you came back! You came back! Wait until Chelsea finds out!" She pulled away then and turned her head towards a far off room. "Chelsea, Chelsea! Come out here, Natasha's home! Chelsea!"  
  
Running into the room like a child anxious to unwrap Christmas presents, a nine year old child's face brightened at the announcement and she threw herself between the two girls with a giggle. "Natasha! You're back!" The three sisters shared the hug for a minute longer before separating their selves.  
  
"Natasha, I can't believe you're here! It's like a dream!" The middle sibling exclaimed with a grin. "Are you coming to stay? Please tell me you are! I've missed you so much!"  
  
"I've missed you too, Marysol."  
  
Chelsea jumped up and down, overly excited by this surprise. "Wait 'til daddy finds out! He's going to be so happy to see you back!"  
  
Marysol shared a knowing look with her older sister. "Chelsea, why don't you go prepare me and Natasha some drinks?" The little girl agreed and skipped off to do as she had been asked. When sure she was out of ear shot, Marysol turned to Snap. "It gets worse and worse every day, Natasha. He scares me sometimes, he really does! He's always drunk and delusional, and the things that come out of his mouth are so...disgusting! I try to avoid him at all costs, but sometimes he corners me and..." her voice choked "...and it's all I can do to keep from sobbing. I try to keep the family together but since mom left and then you, it's been so hard."  
  
"But you know what's worse?" she continued. "He's starting to look at Chelsea the same way he did you and me. At night, he comes into our room and stands at her bedside tracing his hand over her small back. He thinks I'm asleep when he does it, but I see it all the time! He's going to do something horrible to her, Natasha, and it'll scar her for the rest of her life! He cares nothing for us!"  
  
Snap tried to control her sister by pulling her into a hug. She knew exactly how Marysol felt; she knew it all too well. The fear, the anxiety, the not knowing whether you'd be free one night to simply be a child. It was why she had left to begin with.  
  
"Marysol, youse gotta leave 'fore he does somethin' tah 'er. He's already hoit youse and me, and there aint no reason why we gotta let 'im hoit Chelsea too. She still thinks of him as if he's some good ol' man, but ya gotta make 'er see the reality of it all. Ya gotta take 'er outta this place!"  
  
"But how? And with what money? I can't just leave! This is the only place I can call home!"  
  
Snap reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded wad of bills. "Here, take this. All of it. Go tah the monastery in Manhattan wid Chelsea and stay there, okay? It has tah be tonight, Marysol. I'm not letting youse stay another day in this hellhole. Promise me you'll leave tonight."  
  
"Where did you get all that money? Did you...?" She wouldn't ask the question straight out, for that would be rude, even if it was no secret between the girls.  
  
"No," the elder replied simply. "It was just a little bet. And I'se won." After all, those were her only intentions in accepting A.J.'s bet against Spot and Jack. She could care less whether it ruined her reputation or made her number one enemy of Brooklyn. In the long run, if it's what she had to do to protect her sisters and reunite her family, she would even go so far as to give her life. "Promise me you'll do it."  
  
Marysol took the money; thirty seven dollars in total. "Alright, I promise. Are you going to meet us there later?"  
  
"I'll try to come the next day or maybe..." The front door slammed open and in staggered a drunken man in his middle-ages dressed in soot- covered clothes and sporting a beard that definitely needed shaving. He cursed three times under his breath and then threw the decanter of whiskey he held onto the floor where it shattered. He proceeded his entrance into the family room but stopped short when he saw a familiar face. "Natasha..." he snarled. "Business running low this time of year?"  
  
"Go tah hell, father!" Snap turned back to Marysol and whispered, "promise me" before once again facing her abusive parent. "Youse don't scare me anymore, I'm not someone youse can hoit anymore!"  
  
"No, I'm sure you have enough men doing that to you already."  
  
Snap glared at him. "And who do I'se have tah thank fer that? None other than me father who introduced me tah the business when I was only eleven years old!" The argument had turned to screaming now and as Chelsea returned with two glasses of milk, seeing two of her family members barking at each other like rivals brought tears to her eyes.  
  
"Get out of my house, you whore!" The sisters' father pulled the girl's arm and shoved her out the door with a might that brought her down to her knees. By now, neighbors and friends had gathered around the apartment to see about the problem and all were left dazed at the sights they had found. "I won't let no whore live in this household, you understand me! Get OUT!"  
  
Snap had not the energy to fight back. What could she say at this point? It was obvious to the others already what the situation concerned. How could she tell them that she was the victim, and not her father? How could she save herself from the humiliation? It was much too late. On all fours like an animal, she suddenly felt like the lowest human being ever born into the drudgery of life. She felt worthless, unappreciated, and unfortunate. And worse off, she remembered that this was the same way Spot had gone about exiling her from Brooklyn. It was all a confounded parallel.  
  
A rock skidded across the ground barely missing her hand and soon after she realized the young women standing outside were throwing stones at her while the boys shouted insults and cruel words. Snap climbed to her feet and proudly marched off, showing no outward signs of being daunted. One especially large rock shot against her shoulder blade and she stumbled from the impact; the audience roared with laughter.  
  
"Tah hell wid them," said she, as she took off once again. She wouldn't let them revel in her agony. But inside, she was weeping uncontrollably.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Review Review Review Review Review Review Review Review!!! Next chapter: Runner and Mallory share Valentine's Day together and Spot takes the bet into his own hands. 


	18. A Valentine Seduction

DISCLAIMER: These characters do NOT belong to me unfortunately. I tried to kidnap them from Disney and was unsuccessful. Go figure. However, Runner and Mallory are MINE, and so is Josephine, Aunt Patricia, and Daisy! Muahahaha! So take that, Mickey!! OoOogles! I almost forgot Becca and Snap. They's mine too!! BleH! : ) Ah, the list just goes on, there's Mr. Carter too of course. And Vixen...Charles Hutton's mine too. Same applies to Flame and Falcon, Father Romanik, Father Aesop, and Mother Smith.  
  
A.N. Thank you to everyone who keeps reviewing! I LOVE receiving feedback from you guys; it motivates me to keep on writing. ^_^ I've been waiting to write this chapter for a looong time! W00t w00t! Here's chapter 18 coming right at ya! Hope ya'll enjoy it! And don't forget to REVIEW! Hee hee.  
  
~Angel: Heya girly. Ya know what? I thought I had sent you the edits to your latest chapters already and just this weekend I realized that I hadn't! I'm sooo sorry! I will try to get them to you as soon as possible! Thanks for reviewing, though! Muaha, I think Becca's past is FINALLY revealed in either the next chapter or the one after that. Hope ya like this one!  
  
~FatBottomGirl: Yea, I know you're skittles. : ) Glad ya like the story so far. Enjoy this new update!  
  
~unnamed: Thanks for reviewing! ^_^ Yea, at first I was just going to let Snap be one of those villains ya love to hate. But man, you guys really hated her! LoL! So then I thought, what could I do to change that? And bam! Chapter 17 was created! Hee hee. Hope ya like this chappie!  
  
~asp: Ha, Snap is human! Good stuff. W00t w00t! Here's another chapter coming right at ya!  
  
~Sureshot Higgins: How could I end the scene when Becca was just about to reveal all? I love cliffhangers, girly! Muaha! But don't worry, it'll continue in either the next chapter or the one after that. As for Mallory, here's a nice chapter about what's kicking with her and my boy Runner. Hope ya enjoy!  
  
~StupidChocolateGurl: Thanks for the review, chica! Hope ya like the rest of the story!  
  
~Rhapsody: Well it's a relief you all are feeling bad for Snap now. I just needed to add that in because I planned on keeping her around, lol. Guess what, Rhap. Your number one man is all up in this chapter. Go Runner! YaaaY! Aren't you all excited that he won that vote thingy? ^_^  
  
~Apollonia: Thanks for reviewing, girly! OoOgles, Spot will be taking matters into his own hands this time around. Tsk tsk tsk, don't ya just love that seductive sexy leader? *huggles Spot* And I will review your story soon! I just got back from out of town and I have to write an essay and take notes on this chapter in my history book first! But don't worry, you'll be hearing from me soon!  
  
~Drama-Queen: Yea, Runner won! W00t w00t! He's me buddy boy! *huggles Runner* Glad you're liking this story so far, doll face. Here's another update!  
*Just A Little Bet*  
  
~*~*~*~*~ Runner licked the roof of his mouth and gave into the nostalgic tides that rose and fell in his mind. He never thought quitting his smoking habits would be so hard. He missed the taste of the nicotine, the hot smoke that stirred between his gums until he exhaled it. But he figured it was all for the better, for both him and Mallory.  
  
Speaking of the girl, she happened to return from the restroom at that moment, a soft pink reapplied to her lips and her cheeks newly brightened with blush. She smiled at Runner and took a seat beside him at the table they occupied.  
  
"So, ya having fun?"  
  
Mallory nodded; how could she not be having fun? The Valentine's social was held in some Queens dancing hall decorated as if it were a homecoming party fit for a duke and his noble party. The food served was beyond delicious, fabulous little appetizers that could tickle one's taste buds, and the formality of the entire occasion was breath taking. It was a costume party; Mallory had gone as a princess. When Runner had told her she looked more like a temptress, her red gown's vibrant shade was nothing compared to the blush that crept up her cheeks.  
  
Earlier in the night she had caught sight of Becca dressed as an angel and the two girls had conversed for a bit before going their separate ways. Mallory sighed as she watched the dancing couples before her. Everyone seemed so elated, so in love. She glanced at Runner leaned back in his chair fixing his striped prisoner costume and could not help but admire his self-assurance. The boy was unbelievably suave, calm and collected even in the midst of the most trying times.  
  
"Lucas, it means a lot to me that you took me here." She didn't know what possessed her to blurt out the words as she had done, but she wanted him to know how she felt about him, that she cared about him more than she could express.  
  
"I'm glad," he replied, a grin spreading on his face as if he'd just been told the greatest news ever. "But it's getting kinda late and I don't what you getting in trouble with your father or the school board, so how 'bout we leave a bit early?" He knew she wouldn't have problems with either but he wanted to traverse the safe road. Plus, it wasn't particularly clever for a former Brooklyn newsie to be lingering around Queens, especially for one in close relations with Spot Conlon.  
  
Mallory frowned. "But we haven't danced at all, and we'll miss the last dance if we leave now!"  
  
"I'll make it up to you, hun, but we should really be going." He rose to his feet, laced his fingers with hers, and then led her out of the building after bidding farewell to a few friends he had passed on the way out. Surprisingly, the streets of Queens were rather quiet as they walked along their way. Runner was taken aback by this; usually there were clusters of newsies, drunks, and beggars strolling the walks, yet tonight all was empty.  
  
Mallory's thoughts were elsewhere. She knew she would deem this one of the best days of her life when she got home. Runner had been such a gentleman all night long, introducing her to his comrades and making sure she was enjoying herself at all times. On top of that, she couldn't remember him looking ever as handsome as he did tonight. Even fitted in a jailbird's garments he looked like royalty. Everything about him, she simply loved it all.  
  
"Your hand's cold," he said suddenly, turning to face her when they stopped just beside a lamp post.  
  
"Well, it's a bit chilly, but I'll be fine." They stood there in silence, for no words had to be exchanged. He stepped closer to her and her heart was already zooming into palpitations. Only then did she recall something. Never had Runner kissed her. Of all the opportunities he had been presented with, of all the times she had come vulnerable to him, never once had he even tried. Had he been waiting for the right moment? She wondered. Had he wanted their first kiss to be special?  
  
He put his hands on her waist and pulled her closer to him so that their bodies moved as one. "I made a promise. We got nice lighting here, no audience, just us. May I have this dance?"  
  
"Of course," she whispered back, as she clasped her hands behind his neck and rested her head upon his chest. Then they started swaying from side to side, choreographing the moves to their own song, one that played from heart to heart. Mallory thought it all beautiful. The way Runner went about doing things, it was just so heart-warming. She knew other guys who would have made a show of having her as their date, who would boast about it and publicly profess their connections with the girl at the top of their lungs. But Runner cared for her privacy and found more enjoyment in simply sharing a relationship with her in secret. It made things more...mysterious.  
  
Unfortunately, the weather was not working in the couple's favor for only moments into the innocent dance, the storm clouds overhead opened their massive selves and poured down an ammunition of rain onto the city. Runner pulled away sighing. It figured something ominous had to occur just as things were going right in his life. Soaked completely within seconds, he turned his gaze back to Mallory to find the girl laughing. "What's so funny?"  
  
"This is great! I've never danced in the rain, at least not with someone I find myself liking more and more every day."  
  
"Oh really?" he asked slyly. Now that he thought about it, he'd never done such a thing either. And what better way to try new things with one's sweetheart than on Valentine's Day. There was a first for everything, he'd heard people say. Like...first kisses. He studied her through the droplets of rain; she was so stunningly radiant it beckoned his heart to do something already. How much longer would he wait until he even kissed the girl?  
  
Something kept whispering in his mind that he should have shown her how he felt by now, that he should've made his first moves long ago. So why did he keep pushing it off? What was he waiting for, an invitation? Hadn't she just given him one? He came closer to her, the rain drizzling down his smooth features like a rejuvenating shower, and grabbed her face in his hands with a gentleness that sent chills down her spine.  
  
Mallory stifled a shiver from making her body tremble and tried to focus on the matter presently at hand. He was finally going to kiss her; she couldn't wait! He looked so beautiful as he stood before her, his eyelashes long and his hair a darker shade now that it was drenched. His eyes set her in a trance, one that's spell she didn't mind being under. He drew nearer, their breaths brushing onto one another's skin like a breeze of passion.  
  
"Well, well, well, what do we'se have heah?"  
  
Runner disregarded cursing under his breath out of shock and instead spun around to see the worse fate he had ever known staring at him with malicious grins and eyes that hungered for evil. Flame and Falcon, the two that despised the Conlon duo with a malevolent passion. "What the hell do you idiots want; don't ya see I'se kinda busy right now?" Terrified as he was, Runner still managed to not seem daunted in any way.  
  
Flame approached the boy in a wolfish demeanor. "Busy knockin' up some damn broad?" He shoved Runner to the ground and pulled Mallory up to him. "Tell me, doll face. How much did the kid pay youse tah screw 'im? I'll double it if ya gimme a lil' preview." He would have violated the girl further but his advances were stopped when a fist slammed into his temple, momentarily blacking him out.  
  
Runner readied himself to attack Falcon but not before looking back at Mallory to make sure she hadn't been hurt. "Run to Brooklyn, Mallory. Go get Spot, tell him what happened, alright?"  
  
"No, I'm going to st-"  
  
"GO!" The look on his face was a pleading one more than anything else. He knew he wouldn't win this battle single-handedly. Queens was infamous for having ambushes all over its streets, so that there was no such thing as a man-to-man fight. More like man-to-mob. In no time, at least half of Flame's newsie crew would be at the scene, all taking blows at Runner in efforts to either torture the boy or kill him; whichever pleased them more. "Go tell Spot to come with a few of the boys! And hurry!!"  
  
He didn't offer her another glance for he assumed she would do as she had been told. As he turned back to his adversary, he ducked down just in time to miss the whack of a bat Falcon had swung at his face. He had a feeling things weren't going to have a likeable outcome this time around...  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
"So which one of you lucky goils is gunna get tah sleep wid me tonight?" Blink stood in the middle of the girls' bunkroom back at Manhattan that night hoping to recruit broads that would take interest in his offer, but the only thing he received were either pillows thrown at his face, eye rolls, or downright laughter. "Ah, youse don't know what ya missin'!" He stormed out of the room, feigning anger, but the smile on his lips told everyone he was just as amused by his blatant inquiry.  
  
Jack and Vixen both laughed at the joke from the windowsill upon which they sat. The day had been filled with countless pranks pulled by Blink and his pal Snitch that the Manhattan newsies were under the impression that April Fool's Day had taken the place of Valentine's. It worked for the both of them either way.  
  
Jack wasn't particularly into relationships in the days following his break-up with Snap. It wasn't that his heart had been broken so badly he disbelieved it would ever be mended; it was merely his desire to be certain about someone before letting them into his life. He had nothing against love. It was the greatest emotion one could ever know. But he knew it was also painful, and he would try to avoid that pain at all costs.  
  
Vixen was somewhat the same way, and yet she was different, for while she was guilty of letting men into her life before establishing a proper relationship first, she also failed in giving her all into anything. She was always unwilling to wager too much in the game of love for fear that she might lose it all, especially her heart. Now thinking upon it, she couldn't recall a single relationship in which she was head over heels for a guy. In the past, hooking up with someone was solely for status issues, to flaunt what she was capable of obtaining. And now realizing what she had become, she was suddenly disgusted.  
  
"Man, I'se can't wait 'til this damn day is ovah." Jack took a long drag on the cigarette he held and then threw it out into the rain where it quickly was extinguished.  
  
"Ya don't like Valentine's too much I'se assumin'?"  
  
"What's the point anyways? Is youse s'pose tah be especially nice tah those ya love on this day? Why not just be nice alls the time? Why can't ya just show 'em youse love 'em every day?"  
  
Vixen smiled at the suggestion. There was good sense in what he asked. "I'se dunno, Jacky-boy. Maybe people aint got enough money tah buy their lovahs a diamond ring every day." They both laughed, even though the question was left unanswered. They both supposed it was one of those high truths that would always be considered but never solved.  
  
"So what's a hot thing like youse doin' wid no Valentine anyways? Ya know how many guys in this house would do anything tah, uh, be wid youse fer a night?"  
  
"Or did you mean do me for a night?" She laughed when he nodded bashfully. She thought it cute in a sense that the big reverent leader of Manhattan was too coy to say the first words that came to mind. She assumed he was merely being respectful. "Ah, me and Cupid really aint on speakin' terms these days."  
  
He leaned his head against the wall and let his eyes travel down her body as she spoke. Hell, he was one of the guys who'd like to take her to bed any night. She was a feisty temper bottled up in a nice, compact body that seemed to be a gift to mankind. "That's too bad, cause me and the Cupid-man is on speakin' terms and he was just suggestin' that I'se not let ya be alone."  
  
"Did Cupid suggest that or did, uh, junior?" She motioned towards his pants with a nod of her head and grinned devilishly.  
  
Jack was surprised by the saucy words, but he liked it nonetheless. It felt challenging to be with a girl who spoke her mind and he liked being put to the test as long as she would be administering it. "Why don't youse find out fer yaself?"  
  
Vixen arched an eyebrow playfully. There was no harm in indulging in friendly pleasures, but she wanted this to be an ongoing chase. Jack Kelly was special and she knew that, but she wouldn't just give herself away to him like that. No, he would have to show he wanted her as bad as she wanted him. "Maybe when youse gimme enough incentive tah wanna." She winked at him then, slid off the windowsill, and sauntered off to her bunk bed.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Spot lowered the girl onto her bed, letting his tongue invade her mouth one last time before he pulled away and smirked down at her as if he had just achieved another tally mark for his reputation. Tonight's victim, some redhead that had joined the Brooklyn newsies just yesterday. Overtaken by Spot's good looks and charisma, she was an instant fan of the Brooklyn leader and kissed the ground he walked on so fervently that it was more pathetic than anything else.  
  
"Goodnight, Spot. I really enjoyed tonight. I love you." She pulled him down for another kiss and tried to keep from giggling.  
  
Spot rolled his eyes, but she couldn't see in the dark. He could care less whether she did, though. More than anything, he wished she'd shut that damn mouth of hers before she woke up the other girls already fast asleep in the bunk room. The only reason he'd come here was because the redhead had literally begged him to tuck her into bed, as ridiculous as he had found it. He succumbed to her requests only because she was annoying his ears.  
  
"Wouldn't it be funny if someone caught you telling me a bedtime story?"  
  
"Hilarious," he replied in a blank tone. She giggled again and this only infuriated him all the more. "Alright, youse need tah get ya sleep." He kissed her a final time, hard and long so that she wouldn't complain, and then turned around to exit out of the room.  
  
"Goodnight, Spot," she called out in a soft whisper just as he was turning the doorknob.  
  
"Goodnight..." the reply trailed off, for he couldn't quite remember the girl's name.  
  
In the main room of the Brooklyn lodging house, some boys were still up playing poker in obvious efforts to break night. Scapegoat saw Spot approach their table and nodded at his leader with a grin. "So you nailed the girl, huh? I swear, Conlon, youse don't even wait a day before you move in."  
  
"Damn straight." He thought to join the card game, but wasn't in the mood to lose any money, and so headed off on his way back upstairs to retire to his quarters and finally find rest.  
  
"SPOT! SPOT! LUCAS NEEDS YOU!" Mallory barged into the main room right then screaming like an uncontrollable madwoman prophesying about horrific revelations only she could understand. "SPOT!" She stumbled to the floor and created a puddle about her as rain was drained from her clothes onto the wood. Crying in hysteria, she went on with her message once she made eye contact with the Brooklyn leader who came rushing to her side. "Spot, Spot, we were in Queens, and these guys, there were two of them, they started messing with us. They're going to hurt him, Spot! You have to help him! I can show you where! Come on!"  
  
Scapegoat and the other card players exchanged baffled looks. Neither of them had ever met Mallory before, so at first glace, the least they could say was that she was an asylum escapee. And who the hell was Lucas?  
  
Spot pulled the girl to her feet and held her steady, reminding her to keep breathing before she had a nervous breakdown. She was already panting from the run she had just endured, and the inhalations sounded in the air like screeching wheezes that made the others wince. "Mallory, calm down, alright? Youse is gunna give yaself a heart attack!"  
  
"I can't calm down, he needs our help! Spot, they're going to kill him! Aren't you going to do something! You have to go over there and help him!"  
  
"Maybe if youse chill out, I'se can understand what the hell is goin' on." He wrapped his arms around her when the freezing water that covered her body began to take affect and spoke more softly. "Mallory, I'll send some of me boys tah Queens now so that youse aint gotta worry 'bout nothin', okay? But youse stay heah and tell me the whole story."  
  
She pushed away from him, already shaking her head. "No! How will they know where to go? I have to show them the way, I can't stay here!"  
  
"Don't worry sweetness, we'll find ya lil' boyfriend for youse...but if he's in Queens and got jumped, we can't guarantee the shrimp will be alright by the time we get there." Scapegoat smiled at her, being the joker he was known as.  
  
Spot glared at him. "She's talking 'bout Runnah."  
  
"Oh..." the others shifted uncomfortably under their leader's scorn.  
  
Mallory continued on. "We had gone to a dance there; I think it was called the Sadie Hawkins Dance. We left early because he wanted to get me home but we stopped for a moment at a street light and that's when two local boys started giving us trouble. They started a brawl, Spot! You have to go there before they start ganging up on him!"  
  
"Well, youse heard the goil," Spot said to his boys. "There six of youse right heah. Put down those cards and go find me cousin. And don't even think of comin' home 'til youse help 'im fight off those scabs. Ya understand? I'll stay heah wid the goil cause she don't need tah be runnin' around Queens wid those goons wantin' tah screw the foist goil they's see." Mallory glared at him, but he didn't notice. He saw his appointed six out the door and reminded them they would not be welcomed back into the lodging house unless Runner was in their company. Then they left.  
  
Mallory wasn't too pleased by the arrangements. What aid was she to Runner if she was cooped up in some confounded building with Spot? "You could've let me gone! I'm not a little girl, you know."  
  
"Yea, but youse is gunna get sick if ya stay out in that rain any longah. Let's go tah me room, I think I'se gots some extra clothes youse can wear fer now." He led her to his room and gently shut the door behind them once they were inside. The single lamp in the room fended off some darkness, but the girl found herself rather uncomfortable being in such a small, dimly-lit space with someone like Spot.  
  
"Nice dress, by the way."  
  
"Thanks," she said as she sat on the edge of his bed hesitantly. She didn't like the smirk on his face and wished more than ever that she had brought along with her a shawl by which to cover herself. She wanted to change the topic of conversation. "It was awful, Spot. Why couldn't they let us alone? We weren't bothering them in any way! They were so cruel!"  
  
Spot sat down at her side and let his hand fall upon her back, where he rubbed her shoulders in a way that made her inwardly shudder. He noticed her uneasiness and knew then that he was closer than he had thought at winning her over. Apparently, the feelings she once had for him who knew how many weeks ago were still present. Perhaps small in size, but present even so. If he could figure out a way to enliven them somehow...  
  
"So, where are the clothes you said you'd let me borrow?"  
  
"You'd have tah get outta those foist before I'se can give 'em tah youse."  
  
"Or how about you give me the spare clothes now, I take them with me into the restroom and change, and then I'll come back out and I can tell you what the guys who bothered your cousin and me looked like."  
  
Spot admired the resistance she had fortified since last they met and wondered what situations had given her the opportunity to practice it. He knew Runner would never give her any trouble; maybe the girl had finally been introduced to reality by someone else. "I'se gots a bettah suggestion. Lemme give ya a hand takin' off them clothes and maybe latah I'll give youse a Valentine's Day tah remembah."  
  
"I see you haven't changed any!" She jumped to her feet with intentions to storm out of the room, but Spot grabbed her hand to stop her.  
  
"Goil, I'se was only playin' wid youse. Ya aint gotta get all offensive. Ya know I wouldn't do anything ya wouldn't want me to."  
  
She relaxed, but only by the slightest degree. "Spot, I only came here because your cousin told me to. I don't want to sacrifice what I have with him; I care about him a lot."  
  
"Youse is wid Lucas?!" He burst out laughing, holding his stomach to quench the pain the chuckles brought.  
  
"I don't see any humor in that."  
  
Spot's mind was fast at creating lies, and that gift was working at its fullest right now. "Mal, Runnah was heah yesterday tellin' me 'bout youse, how he thinks ya cute and funny and all. But, uh, his exact woids were that he didn't want a relationship wid youse 'cause ya aint the type of goil he's lookin' fer. But get this, the kid tells me he don't want no goil cause his father would be aggravating his ass about it alls the time, and then I see 'im latah that night wid some doll face, screwin' her ovah like there aint no tomorrow."  
  
Mallory gasped; she stepped away unwilling to believe what the leader was saying. That didn't sound like the Runner she knew at all! Lucas was kind, loyal, and had a unique mannerism that was hard to find in one who had once been a newsie. "I don't believe you."  
  
"Listen, I know it's hard fer youse tah think he'd say shit like that, but I wouldn't lie tah youse. I mean, Runnah aint the only one that cares about youse. I wanna make shoah that youse aint chasin' after him fer nothin'. What good is it tah do that if he don't even want a relationship wid youse?"  
  
"No..." She sat back down on the bed ready to cry. Why would Runner do something like that? She was convinced that he had feelings for her, strong ones that would in time evolve. Had it all been only an act? Had he only been playing with her heart?  
  
Spot knelt in front of her and took her hands in his. "I'm sorry youse had tah heah about it like this. He shoulda told youse himself instead of just leadin' ya on."  
  
"I still don't understand it, though. This doesn't seem like him at all! The things he said to me, the way he treated me. It couldn't have been a charade; it felt so real!"  
  
"I know, but that's what kids like 'im are masters at doin'. I'll admit, sometimes I'se been guilty of doin' the same thing." He pulled himself onto the bed and draped an arm around her. "And Mallory, if I'se evah hoited youse by doin' that, I can't tell ya how sorry I am. When I foist met ya, youse were nothin' but another broad fer me tah conquer, but once I'se got tah knowin' ya bettah, I felt bad fer what I had done."  
  
She looked into his eyes, searching for truth behind his words, but they were unreadable, leaving her to only wonder. Was this another one of the Brooklyn leader's tricks? Was he filling her heart with lies? She thought on it. Runner had never spoken wrongly of his cousin, so she couldn't conclude that the two were in competition. And there was no trace of them hating each other. What was this uncertainty she felt then?  
  
"If it makes ya feel bettah, ya aint gotta stay heah in Brooklyn wid me. I'll walk youse home and then stop by Queens tah see about Runnah. It'll give youse some time tah think things through. I know it must be really hard tah have heard all that." He looked down at the floor and sighed. "I'm such a joik, maybe I shouldn't have told youse at all. For God's sake, it's Valentine's Day and I totally ruined it fer youse!"  
  
"No, it's not your fault." She couldn't find the words she wanted to use. She needed comfort and condolence, but could she trust Spot to not go too far? She wanted to pour out her sorrow, but could she confide in Spot to keep his mouth shut about it? To hell with it, she even wanted to stay over in Brooklyn! She didn't want to go back to her dormitory and confront questioning glances, and she certainly didn't want to run home to her father and make him think she was incapable of handling the new circumstances she had been dealt as of late.  
  
"Come on, I'll take youse home." Spot started to rise but Mallory tugged on his arm, gesturing for him to remain seated.  
  
"Do you mind...I just, I don't want to be all alone, and I don't want to explain to anyone if I start to cry. I don't want to cry, though! There's nothing to cry about...I just, I'd rather be with someone who understands right now."  
  
Spot nodded and wiped the lone tear that fell from the girl's eye then with his thumb. "Ya know, when we'se foist talked, youse were cryin' and ya told me that it was okay cause everybody cries now and again. So if youse need tah now, I'm heah tah hold ya and tell ya it's alright."  
  
"That's sweet of you." She turned towards him for a hug, an embrace that she put her whole self into because it was something she needed. She needed to know the warmth, concern, and love that she thought Runner had possessed for her. Slowly, Spot pulled her back so that his lips brushed against hers. He looked into her eyes for permission and upon seeing no protest, he slowly leaned her back onto the bed as he fell atop her, all the while keeping her in a lip lock that delivered her into his heartless seduction.  
  
~*~*~*~*~ REVIEW! ^_^ 


	19. Dolls and Brawls

DISCLAIMER: The characters not found in the movie Newsies belong to me and those that are belong to Disney. Simple as that. Have a nice day. OoOgles, and 'The Line' is an idea created by the lovely and talented Meow. ^_^  
  
  
  
*SHOUT-OUTS*  
  
~Lanen: Don't worry. Mallory will always be Runner's girl no matter what happens; even if they're not even together. ^_^ And yea, Becca's story is coming up soon. Hope ya like this chapter!  
  
~Tiger: Glad you're liking the twists! w00t w00t! Thanks for the review!  
  
~racesgurl52787: Didn't expect Mallory to fall for Spot, eh? Heehee. Don't ya just love those classic twists? ^_^ Enjoy this chapter!  
  
~StupidChocolateGurl: Ah, glad you've liked this story so far! So how's your sister doing? Send her my best wishes! Thanks for reviewing!  
  
~Chewy: I've written more! Muahaha! Here's another chapter coming at ya! Hope ya like it!  
  
~Dimples: YaaaY! I've finally updated! LoL, I was in a mood to write more of JALB after posting CH. 8 of "Confessions". Woooohooo! I'm free from the bondages of school so now I can update more often! Wheee...Okay, so anywayz, here's more!  
  
~kellyanne: w00t w00t! Thanks for the review! I'm glad you're loving this story and I'm touched you think I'm a great author...*tear* ^_^ Sorry to keep ya waiting for so long for and update. Here it is!  
  
~snipah higgins: Only reading the Race/Becca parts, eh? *whispers* I've been guilty of that too before. Heehee. Just to save ya the trouble, they aren't featured in this chapter, but check back next time! Thanks for the review!  
  
~Meredith: Here's another chapter for youse, darlin'! Hope ya like it!  
  
~kessystar: Sorry to leave ya at a cliffhanger last time. ^_^ Yaaay, another Runner fan! I love him so much, lol! He rocks my socks! So here's more of our boy; enjoy!  
  
~asp: WoW, it took me a long time to update, eh? I hope you weren't dying over there in waiting. : ) Here's your update! Hope ya like it!  
  
~Jaede Lorielle Conlon: I like your name, if I haven't said so before, lol. It's majorly kewl. Anywho, I think you scared Spot with that whole 'cutting off his manhood' ordeal. Although, I must say, he certainly does deserve it. ^_^ Rock on!  
  
~Deanie: Spot's a slimeball? LoL! I love that. Seriously, I do. I may have to use it sometime...hmm. Ah well, anywho, here's another chapter for ya!  
  
~CiCi: Will Spot win the bet? Will Spot win the bet? Hmm, should I tell her, guys? *Newsies shake their heads* Awww, sorry, I can't say. ^_^ But read on and we shall see. Thanks for the reviews, doll! Hope ya like this next chapter!  
  
~Rhapsody: Heya goil, why don't you jump into Queens and go save the love of your life from getting soaked to death? : ) Yea, Spot's a slimeball. *sigh* We're going to have to teach him a lesson, eh? We might even have to use Runner. Welp, this chapter features your sweetheart, so I know you'll like it much. Thanks for your faithful reviews!  
  
~Isabelle Gibson: Wow, I just finished a chapter from "Confessions" and realized how the Spot in that story is the complete opposite of the Spot in this one. LoL. Don't worry, our little Brooklyn leader will shape up soon enough. Heehee.  
  
~Apollonia: Finally coming to the last person on my shout-out list...*collapses in exhaustion* ^_^ This story's quite long. I should end it soon so I can start on "The River" (as I so fondly abbreviate it). Well thanks for being one of my faithful reviewers! w00t w00t! Here's an action- packed chapter yet again!  
  
~Lanen: I'm still looking for time to read that story of yours. ^_^ Don't worry; I haven't forgotten. But now that I'm off from school, I'll have the next two months. Time is on my hands! *Dances around in praise* Anywho, thanks so much for reviewing! Hope ya like this chapter!  
  
~AND FINALLY GETTING TO THE STORY~  
  
BrieF ReCaP: After a fun-filled night at a Valentine's Dance in Queens, Runner and Mallory share a last dance in the rain and are about to also share their first kiss when two Brooklyn enemies interrupt the couple and challenge the infamous Spot's younger cousin to a fight. Runner urges Mallory to run to Brooklyn for Spot's help, and she does. However, when she finally arrives at the lodging house, panting and screaming about what happened, instead of seeing about the matter himself, Spot sends six of his newsies in his place and convinces Mallory to stay with him before she catches a cold in the rain. The two get to talking, and when Mallory reveals her feelings for Runner, Spot instantly creates a lie about the boy, claiming that Runner had cheated on Mallory behind her back. Mallory is instantly heart-broken, thus giving Spot the perfect chance to take advantage of her vulnerability and finally win the bet.  
  
*Just A Little Bet*  
  
~*~*~*~*~When Spot awoke the next morning, the sun was already shining fiercely, casting its brilliant rays into the leader's room and momentarily blinding him. "Shit," he cursed in a hiss. This was the third time this week he had slept in! He sat up on his elbows and let his eyes adjust to the brightness of the room, only then noticing the girl who slept at his side peacefully. Mallory? Then the memories from last night filled his mind. How the girl had dashed into the lodging house soaking wet, how she had demanded she join the Brooklynites in their search for Runner, how Spot had instead gotten her to take shelter in his room.  
  
He smirked in remembrance of how easy it had been. One of the most gullible dolls he'd known. She was in love with Runner, yet believed the first lie about him Spot had dealt her. Obviously, she didn't trust the kid too much. Thinking it funny, he wondered how far he could extend this game. What else would Mallory believe?  
  
She stirred in her sleep and came to wake at that moment, her brown curls a tangled mess but her beauty evident either way. She yawned and shifted under the blankets, mentally debating whether she wanted to get up or not.  
  
"Mornin' dollface," Spot greeted her, lightly laughing when she started in surprise.  
  
Mallory blushed as Spot turned on his side and grinned down at her. It bothered her more than anything else; he was acting as if he expected something from her. She was thus left clueless, until scenes from last night flashed in her mind. "Oh my god..." she whispered, half to herself, half in apology to Runner-wherever he was. She had let Spot kiss her and then...and then...She pulled the blankets up and covered her face in shame. 'No, no, no,' she said over and over again. 'It had to be a nightmare.'  
  
"Aww, Mal, don't be shy!" Spot tugged on the blankets until they slowly revealed the girl's face. "I'se aint gonna bite ya, goil. Come out and play!" He leaned towards her and began nibbling at her neck, trying to extract a reaction from her. But Mallory was frozen in place, seemingly afraid of what might pass. Spot sighed. "What'sa mattah, goily?"  
  
"Spot, I can't do this," she said softly. "I can't hurt Lucas again."  
  
"After what he did tah youse?" He shook his head, unwilling to accept her refusal again. "Mal, I bet Runnah aint carin' whether youse hoit 'im er not. After all he did tah youse? He's probably gettin' ready tah break it off wid youse."  
  
Her eyes were large and filled with pain. She didn't want to believe it, but what if it was true? What if Lucas had only been using her? She looked away from Spot and frowned. Would she ever find someone who loved her? Would she ever be truly happy?  
  
"Why don't youse just forget about 'im, Mal, and look at what ya gots in front of youse?" He turned her face back to him and slowly kissed her, deepening the embrace as the seconds passed. But just as he was about to go another step further, Mallory pulled away from him with tears in her eyes.  
  
"I can't do it, Spot. I'm sorry."  
  
He would've argued more with her, but a knock upon his door interrupted the moment. "Suit yaself," he said to her, as he rose from the bed and went to answer it.  
  
In the hallway stood the six newsies he had sent the night before to Queens, five of which were looking anywhere but into the Brooklyn leader's eyes. Scapegoat stood at the front of the assembly and regarded Spot hesitantly; he had obviously been voted the spokesman of the group for being the elder, but more so for his good connections with Spot.  
  
"Hiya Spotty," he grinned nervously. "Uh...we'se kinda gots a problem."  
  
Spot stepped into the hallway with them and closed the door behind him. Then he leaned upon the wooden structure and crossed his arms. An eternity seemed to pass. "Well?"  
  
"Oh, oh...uhm, heh, it's about Runnah." Scapegoat shifted his weight from one foot to the other, trying to keep a stable stance should the leader lash out at him once the message had been delivered. "Well, ya see, we went tah Queens like ya told us but the thing is..."  
  
"He wasn't there," piped in a boy named Julian. Scapegoat glared at him and he cowered back in fear.  
  
Spot's eyes remained cool, but the others knew the calmness was only a shroud to cover his growing temper. "Well, if he wasn't there, where was he?"  
  
Scapegoat took up the explanation once more. "That's a good question. Uhm...we actually ran into a few Queen scabs and basically, they told us Runnah was being kept at the lodgin' house and that if youse wanted tah see 'im alive again, you'd have tah get 'im fer yaself. They said you'd have 'til noon tah get 'im, and if ya turned out tah be a no-show, they'd kill the kid fer crossin' the bordahs."  
  
"Oh really?"  
  
"Yea, we, uh, knows we'se weren't s'pose tah come back unless we had the kid, but the six of us aint no match for all of Queens, and 'sides, I think their leadah wants tah speak wid youse specifically."  
  
However, Spot wasn't paying any heed to what Scapegoat was rambling on about. His thoughts were on Runner. If something were to happen to him, the only family he'd ever known would surely disown him for the rest of his life. On top of that, Spot would never be able to forgive himself. Though spirited and always acting with a mind of his own, Runner was still a Brooklyn newsie, and as such he was entrusted to Spot's care. More importantly, he was Spot's cousin, and it was the elder youth's responsibility to look after him.  
  
"Spot? Youse, uh, youse gunna go ovah there or...?"  
  
"Of coise I'se goin!" Spot nearly yelled. "This is Runnah we'se talkin' about. Ya think I'se just gunna let those bastards do what they want tah me cousin?!" He controlled his anger, remembering Mallory was just inside his room. "Gimme a minute tah get ready, alright? Then we'se gunna take a lil' detour tah Manhattan for some help, and afterwards we'll get the kid."  
  
Julian looked baffled. "Manhattan? But aint they our enemies now? I thought youse and Jack weren't friends no more?"  
  
Spot shrugged. "Yea, but we'se gunna need all the help we'se can get, so we're gunna have tah forget about the past fer now." He gave them orders to rally up the older Brooklyn newsies and then disappeared into his room.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Runner sighed and looked down at himself, his clothes red with the blood that dampened his prisoner costume in selected areas, his chest heaving with great pain, and his back sore from having to sleep the night in a sitting position. Upon arriving to the Queens lodging house, after a few more good soakings, Flame had had the boy pressed against a tall wooden pole so that his arms might be tied around the structure.  
  
It wasn't a happy time. They had left him outside in the bitter rain as if he were a dog punished for some wrongdoing and now, even under the brilliancy of the majestic sun, he shivered uncontrollably from his inner chills as his body tried to adjust to the warmer climate. Another thing, he was incredibly hungry. Now thinking upon it, he realized he hadn't eaten at all last night; he had been too busy staring at Mallory across the table.  
  
"Mallory..." he whispered, his voice cracking as it passed through his aching throat. The though of the girl was enough to revive hope in him. He had thought about her all night. Was she alright? Had she made it safely to Brooklyn? Had she related the message to Spot? And if so, where was the Brooklyn leader?  
  
"Nice tah see youse is up already. It saves the hassle of havin' tah wake ya. Though I would've just smashed a bat into ya skull tah do that." Runner looked up to see Flame and a few of his boys standing before him, seemingly thrilled that they had a captive to torture. "By the way, Runnah, that lil' ditsy goil of yours, mmm. Ya really know how tah reel 'em in, eh? That goil had me goin' all night long."  
  
Runner glared at the blatant lie while the others laughed idiotically. "Except there's one problem, reject," he dared say. "Mallory wouldn't even consider sleepin' wid a son of a bitch like youse!"  
  
The boys quieted down, astonished by the remark, but Flame only grinned. "Ya shouldn't be sayin' shit like that when we'se gots the upper hand in a situation, cause ya just might piss one of us off, and we'd have tah, Oh I dunno, do somethin' like this!" With one swift kick, he slammed his booted foot into Runner's face.  
  
The young Conlon was taken by surprise. His brain rattled from the blow, his neck nearly snapping from such a strong impact. Blood now streaming from his mouth, the pain that surged through his face was overwhelming.  
  
"I bet ya aint got no smart ass comments now, do ya?" Flame crossed his arms and laughed at the pathetic sight at his feet.  
  
"Flame, maybe youse should pick a fight wid someone who aint tied tah a pole, unless youse is too scared tah face a Conlon like that. I mean, who knows. Maybe the kid would actually beat the shit outta ya, right?"  
  
The Queens leader and his brood turned at the all too familiar voice to see Spot Conlon making his way towards them, Jack Kelly at his side and about forty newsies behind. Flame kept on an undaunted façade. "Well, well. Brooklyn and the Cowboy. Nice of you two tah stop by. Is there somethin' we'se can do fer youse?"  
  
"I would ask ya tah drop dead," Spot replied, drawing his cane from the belt loop where it hung, "but that would just take out the pleasure of stranglin' youse wid me own hands."  
  
Jack stepped forward, his tall figure towering over that of Flame's. He thought it ironic how he and Spot had just weeks ago been fighting to the death for some girl, and now were standing side by side for a close friend. Runner being held hostage were the last words Jack had expected to hear from Spot when he had welcomed the Brooklyn newsies into the Manhattan lodging house that morning. But when Spot asked him for his assistance in putting Queens in its place, he didn't even have to hesitate for an answer. Of course Manhattan would help.  
  
"Let the kid go, Flame, before I'se make ya wish youse were never born."  
  
"Ya see, there's a bit of a problem, though," the other leader replied. "He crossed the bordahs and now he's gotta pay."  
  
"He aint a Brooklyn newsie no more and ya know that!" A storm was building in Spot's eyes as they took on a grayish shade.  
  
"Once a Brooky, always a Brooky." Flame motioned behind him to where Runner was with a malicious grin. "I'd been thinkin' all night, what would be the best way tah punish a Conlon? Alotta thoughts came tah me, but none were woithy enough fer such a name. Then it hit me like that." He snapped his fingers to show the quickness of his thought process and then continued. "I'll have him walk the Line!"  
  
His boys erupted into cheers at the announcement of the sentence each of them would have an opportunity to participate in. It was a callous noise that rose into the air and proclaimed the brutality man was capable of possessing.  
  
Those from Manhattan and Brooklyn either gasped at the words, shared hushed whispers with those beside them, protested against the unjust reprimand, or kept eyes focused on the two leaders before them. All, though none would immediately admit it, were terror-stricken. The Line was an inhuman beating, a barbaric ritual that could end in death, and almost always did.  
  
And for once in his life, Spot Conlon didn't know what to do. His eyes fell upon Runner and he instantly felt torn in two ways. He could let the boy accept the challenge like a man, but then would be subjected to seeing his cousin beaten to death. And then what? Face his uncle and aunt with news that he had practically killed their son, for wasn't that what he was doing by not defending him? Then there was his second choice. As the leader of the one charged with trespassing, he had the power to stand in for Runner, to accept the punishment as his own. His cousin would be free to go home, but Spot would be turned to the hands of his enemies, and at last Brooklyn would fall.  
  
Flame noticed the Brooklyn leader in deep contemplation and silenced his boys with a simple gesture. "So what's it gonna be, Spotty? Ya think youse can soak ya way outta this one, or are ya gonna deal?"  
  
"Actually," came the blonde's smooth reply, "we'se gunna do a switch- around."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
Spot closed the distance between him and Runner in a few strides and nodded towards his cousin. "Let the kid go, and take me in his place."  
  
"No!" Strangely enough, the decline came from Runner himself, who refused to be showed up as if he were incapable of handling the consequences of his decisions. He was tired of standing in Spot's shadows all the time; he could stand up for himself! Okay, maybe he'd often run to Spot for help, but he was ready to shine on his own for once. "Youse aint gotta take me place; I'se can take it."  
  
The elder only looked at him before regarding Flame. "Untie 'im and lemme have a woid wid the kid in private." One of the Queens newsies did as instructed and once Runner's hands were free, Spot grabbed the front of his shirt, yanked him to his feet, and shoved him a few yards away where no one could hear their conversation.  
  
"Where d'ya get off thinkin' youse can go against what I say?"  
  
Runner narrowed his eyes at him in indignation. "I don't need ya help! What is youse afraid of, seein' me dead? Isn't that what youse wanted fer a while now? Me tah be dead?"  
  
Spot gave him an incredulous look. "What the hell are ya talkin' about? How many times did they hit ya head last night?" Runner rolled his eyes and started to walk back to Flame with intentions to tell him he'd walk the Line himself, but Spot pushed him back again. "Listen, I'se don't care what ya think, I got the final say anyways. Youse should be glad I care enough tah save ya sorry behind."  
  
"If ya cared so much, youse would've been heah last night when I'se really needed youse. Then none of this would've even happened!"  
  
The sweltering heat's oppression was nothing compared to the loathing they conveyed to one another as they met each other's hard glare.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
The Queens newsies were enthralled by what was to happen within the coming hour. Brandishing weapons of all sorts-knives, bats, slabs of wood, and the like-they followed their leader out the lodging house and onto the abandoned street they claimed as their own. Like soldiers in a garrison forming companies, the boys, all of which were fourteen to nineteen years of age and born of a fierceness only the lower classes knew, formed two lines, each fifteen youth long. The lines stood less than five feet apart with the boys from each side facing each other, as if it were a line-up for some classic ballroom dance. But such debonair mannerisms were cast aside when Flame traversed the formed path to its end, where he turned in place and stood.  
  
The Manhattan and Brooklyn boys gathered about opposite Flame, waiting in an anxious bunch as Spot Conlon did away with his shirt and stood before the beginnings of the Line, his figure glistening in the sun and his demeanor so passive they wondered if he knew with what he was getting himself involved.  
  
But of course Spot Conlon knew. He had seen two of his own boys lose their lives to the ruthless sentence, had seen hell unleashed those days. And now it was time for him to show that it could be conquered. His eyes shone with a grey glint, his face taut as he measured the enemies he would soon be vulnerable to. Most of the Queens newsies were either his size or larger, and all knew how to properly wield the weapon given them. Having his hands tied behind his back then, he knew it would not be his main disadvantage.  
  
He knew what gave the brutes their undying zeal. Just the very fact that this afternoon, each of them would be given the chance to take a strike at the infallible, legendary, fearless leader of the Brooklynites was enough to make them crave for blood like hungry wolves. Spot exhaled a deep breath of air and stepped forward when Flame, numerous yards away, motioned for him to do so. The following silence was a pressing one.  
  
Runner stood at Jack's side and watched on with both jealousy and concern. Jealousy because once again Spot had proved more of a man than he, and concern because all in all, Spot was his family, his blood, and he cared for him deeply. Still, the rivalry between the cousins was overpowering. "I could've done it just as well," the boy whispered in a hiss.  
  
Jack had heard him. "I highly doubt that, kid. Ya know how many bums have lost their lives walkin' this damn thing? Even Spot's gunna come out bruised and battered. That's even IF he comes out at all!"  
  
Scapegoat shook his head. "Youse kiddin' me? Of coise Spot is gunna come outta this mess! For God's sake, he's gotta!"  
  
"I'se aint so shoah," was all Jack said in reply.  
  
Spot walked on, oblivious to the exchange of doubts and conviction between his companions. The first pair of boys that made up either side of the Line readied themselves as the Brooklyn leader came closer to passing them. For the briefest moment, they shared hesitant glances across the way. They were brothers; both only fourteen years of age. Could they really bring it upon themselves to scar the young man they had once admired while growing up in the streets of New York and hearing the tales of a fearless leader who could take on any foe?  
  
Whether they could was out of the question, though. They would have to. Spot was between them now and after a brief deliberation, they raised their slabs of wood and smacked them across the young man's shoulders. Spot soaked up the pain and walked on. The callous jeers crescendoed into a deafening racket. Knives sliced into the leader's skin, drawing streams of blood that dripped from various wounds. Slingshots flung shooters at his face, stinging as they left bruises as his battle marks. Still, Spot proceeded to walk down the Line, holding the pain within him, not willing to let his pride go for one second.  
  
Then came the bats. The first impact blew Spot's mind away. Some scab who obviously despised the leader grabbed a good hold of a metal shaft and swung the weapon at the back of Spot's knees. He fell face first to the ground onto a puddle of his own blood; the Queens newsies roared in laughter.  
  
"Get up, ya highness!" they shouted. "What'sa mattah? Brooklyn aint so tough now?"  
  
Runner lunged forward with a desire to rip out the eyes of those responsible for the assault; it took Jack, Scapegoat, and Blink to restrain him.  
  
Spot stood kneeling on the streets for what seemed an eternity. The pain coursing through his body was unbearable! He felt as if a locomotive had just crushed onto his body, leaving only a heap of flesh and bones. He was exhausted by the blows, didn't think he could go on. But steadying his heart rate, he rose to his feet and staggered onwards.  
  
He was almost to the Line's end, but that gave him no hope, for he would only have to endure his final beating. A one on one match with Flame, one of the better kick-boxers in central New York. He tried to cover himself with a mental barrier that might fend off the strikes he received, but it was not working. The aches seemed to throb all the more. The knives slashed his flesh deeper, the shooters embedded their forms harder, the splinters on the pieces of wood used against him stung like needles, and the bats felt as if they were shattering his bones. He withstood it all nevertheless.  
  
Finally he had neared Flame. The leader of Queens grinned devilishly at seeing his foe nearing death and looking like some cadaverous drunkard. He kicked Spot's midsection hard on and laughed with delight when the Brooklynite stumbled over. "Ah, this is hardly fair I suppose," he said, still laughing. "I'se don't need Spot tah have his hands tied behind his back. I'se can kick his ass in a fair fight any day!"  
  
"Especially when half ya boys has already done it for youse," Runner commented bitterly from where he stood in a barely audible voice. The three who had held him back earlier from defending Spot still kept their grips on him and so he was left with nothing more than verbal attack.  
  
Flame motioned to one of his boys to do away with Spot's hand bindings. It was done in a matter of seconds and soon the Brooklyn leader was hoisted to his feet. Flame stepped closer to him, reveling in his present power. "Ya know, Spotty. I'se admire ya strength. Alotta guys would've died from the Line, but youse stayed the course. Ya took it like a man. Tell me, though. Can ya take this?" He brought his clenched fist back and delivered a sharp right hook that connected with Spot's cheekbone. The Brooklyn leader fell back, more from the surprise of the attack than anything else, and remained on the ground with his back turned to Flame.  
  
The Queens newsies began taunting him, but Flame bid them to be silent. "Ah, c'mon Spotty. Don't give in tah me now. I'se was just about tah show me boys who the real leadah of Brooklyn shoulda been."  
  
On all fours, Spot wiped his bleeding mouth with the back of a hand and exhaled a large breath of air. He had had enough. Suddenly, he jumped to his feet, turned around in one quick whirl, and charged after Flame in a yelling rage. He tackled the boy down and the two leaders flew down the streets in a tangled bundle. Spot rolled out on top and began socking Flame in the face over and over again, never stopping once.  
  
Flame's newsies instantly sprang into action, running towards their leader and Spot to end this battle once and for all. Manhattan and Brooklyn were closely behind them, not about to let Spot meet an unfair fight. Complete pandemonium broke out.  
  
Runner was the rowdiest of the bunch, a patriotic soul on a vendetta. He never was too skilled a fighter, and that perhaps was his one major flaw during his time as a Brooklyn newsie, but he had the spirit, and at a time like this, that was all that mattered. He dashed into the masses, shoving, punching, and kicking his way through, dodging any who tried to use a weapon against him, and making sure there was always a Brooklyn fighter nearby to run to for help.  
  
Minutes paraded on by until a quarter of an hour had passed. The Queens newsies were slowly submitting to their greater enemies, who proved more fearsome today than they were prepared to admit to. Only few remained who still held up a fight, and they were currently being dealt with. The rest were tending to wounds, bandaging bruises with torn sleeves and admiring cuts that would heal into scars.  
  
Runner limped his way towards Spot with much discomfort. During the fight's outbreak, Jack had sent a boy wheeling off, and Runner had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. The Queens boy consequently slammed into him, the young Conlon's ankle twisting under the weight. Considering he could've left the battle with greater hurts than that, however, he was grateful no other harms had been done.  
  
Spot glared at Flame's unconscious body lying sprawled out at his feet and spat on the leader, cursing the scab to misfortunes for the rest of his life. When he heard his name called, he turned to see Runner coming his way. With a grin, he waved the boy over. It looked as if they had both just barely survived another adventure they would only be laughing over weeks from now.  
  
"Runnah, ya look like shit!"  
  
"Yea, yea," Runner yelled back at him from his current location, smirking all the while. "Youse is lookin' pretty crappy yaself."  
  
Spot nodded and his grin spread, but the smile soon dropped when he suddenly noticed one from Queens' brood darting across the throngs of newsies with a bedpost in hand. The Brooklyn leader's eyes widened in alarm. "Runnah, watch out!" He started for his cousin, who was still a reasonable number of yards away.  
  
Runner froze in his tracks, wondering what the hell Spot was doing. Never had it occurred to him that someone was coming from behind. Never did he think that it was a warning of something fastly approaching. He watched Spot race towards him in confusion and stepped back worriedly. What was.?  
  
He hadn't even a chance to finish the thought. An impact from behind clouted his skull and then all he saw was black.  
  
Spot cried out at the sight. He had arrived just in time to catch Runner's lifeless body in his arms.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
ReViEw! Please? ^_^ Love ya all! 


	20. Becca's Story

DISCLAIMER: The characters not found in the movie Newsies belong to me and those that are belong to Disney. Simple as that. Have a nice day. OoOgles, and 'The Line' is an idea created by the lovely and talented Meow. ^_^  
  
A.N. We broke 200!!! We broke 200!!! We broke 200!!! We broke 200!!! *The newsies throw confetti into the air and start table dancing* w00t w00t! THANK YOU EVERYBODY! We broke 200!!! This calls for a celebration; everyone gets the newsie of their choice dipped in hot fudge and topped with whip cream! THANK YOU!  
  
*SHOUT-OUTS*  
  
~let: YaaaY, she's not mad at Spot anymore! *Spot wipes a tear of joy from his eye* ^_^ Thanks for your long make-up review, lol. Much appreciated. Hope ya like this chapter!  
  
~Gothic Author: No, don't stop reading the story!! *Orders Jack to throw a lasso over G.A. and reel her back in* Heehee. Thanks for the review, keep reading! : )  
  
~Isabelle Gibson: Oh dear, now we have people screaming over Runner. *looks at Spot for help; he whistles innocently* Don't cry, m'dear. Just keep reading. ^_^  
  
~Dimples: Heya Dimps, how was the last day of school for youse? Thanks for your faithful reviews! Enjoy this chapter!  
  
~StupidChocolateGurl: Thanks for the compliments, doll, and for all the reviews. Here's another chapter coming at ya!  
  
~Chewy: I like that name, by the way. It's cute. ^_^ Runner, Runner, Runner. *sigh* You are one of nine people who were distraught by the last chapter. Whatever shall I do? Ah well, just keep reading, k?  
  
~Jack Kelly's Lady: w00t w00t! Runner is the man! *pinches his cheeks* Glad you're loving the story so far! Thanks for all the reviews!  
  
~asp: Would I kill my readers' favorite character? Hmmm, I'm not so sure. Maybe this chapter will reveal that, so keep reading! ^_^ And don't hurt me, lol.  
  
~kellyanne: Ha, thanks for the compliments. The Line...*cringes with fear* That's some heavy stuff there. It was an idea of my friend Angel; I just adapted it and put it into my own writing. Glad ya liked it, though.  
  
~Spider Chick: Yea, all the guys have acted pretty stupid; I agree with youse there. *Dodges as Spot, Jack, Runner, and Race throw household objects at her* Ahhh! Anywho, cookies to you for reviewing! W00t w00t! Hope ya like this chapter!  
  
~Deanie: You were right, my friend. Quite a number of people were upset over last chapter's usage of the word "lifeless". Whatever will I do now, though? *Runs away from the threats* ^_^ Runner, Runner, Runner. Glad ya liked last chapter, though. Here's another one for youse!  
  
~Rhapsody: Ah, Runner's love. : ) Hmmm, you want Runner all to yourself, do you? Assuming that he's still alive, are we? Or maybe you just knew that I was aware of the fact that you'd beat me with a hanger if I were to kill him? Well...*packs her bags and moves to an isolated island* Keep on reading!  
  
~Random: Kewl beans! Glad you've been following along since the beginning. I hope the story's been a good read. You're my tenth major Runner fan, darling, or at least the tenth to review about his...'lifelessness'. ^_^ Enjoy this chapter!  
  
~AND FINALLY GETTING TO THE STORY~  
  
*Just A Little Bet*  
  
~~~Race looked at her in uncertainty. Her past? It was something almost every newsie he knew dreaded. Memories they refused to relive, pains once known that they wanted to keep buried in their minds. And to think upon how guarded Becca acted around him, he could only wonder what her past entailed.  
  
"Alright," he whispered to her as they sat in the empty bunkroom, barely able to make out each other's faces in the growing darkness. "I'se listening."  
  
Becca looked away from him, trying to think of how she should start. She pulled the blanket about her closer to fend off the chills and began. "My mother was an Irish Catholic, my father a Dutch Protestant. They met in the south, where I get my accent, and fell in love. But they didn't have the blessings of their families.  
  
"If you didn't know, Catholics and Protestants tend to quarrel and dispute a lot, and that's exactly what their families did. The fighting traces all the way back to the times of Martin Luther...but in any case, my mother and father loved each other too much to let petty matters stand in the way. They were married and years later became pregnant with me.  
  
"The families were enraged, but nothing infuriated the Catholic bunch more than when my mother passed away giving birth to me. They instantly pointed their fingers at my father for the death, and since I had his blood in me, they didn't want anything to do with me. The Protestant bunch didn't want anything to do with me either. After all, I also had Catholic blood in me. They all abandoned my father."  
  
She paused. Race rubbed her back, thinking she had fallen too weak to continue, but then he realized she was only finding the right words before speaking again. "I remember when I was four; my father and I sat around a twig of a Christmas tree singing carols. Can you imagine...having countless aunts, uncles, and cousins for your family but receiving none for the holidays just because of the blood that runs in your veins? Just because you're the child of someone who held a belief contrary to yours? I don't even understand it! They believed in the same God, Race! What did it matter how they went about doing things?"  
  
Race thought he should say something but didn't quite know what. He simply let the words roll off his tongue. "Some people is too stupid tah look past differences." He wasn't sure whether it was perhaps more severe than she would have liked; when she nodded her head in agreement, he figured he had spoken what she could not.  
  
"My father lost his job the next year," she went on again, her voice growing despondent. "He started drinking a lot, and he wouldn't come home until late at night. It got to the point when I was afraid to talk to him, but he never hurt me. In the summer, my uncle on his side came to speak with him. 'Why don't you go to New York,' he had said. 'There are lots of opportunities there for working men.' My father thought it was a great idea."  
  
Outside, lightning cracked in the distance like a mighty whip, brightening the skies for a brief second before retreating into the midnight backdrop. Becca listened to the pellets of rain that thundered onto the lodging house roof and frowned.  
  
"It was raining the first time it happened. We were living in Midtown then, in a tiny shack we could barely fit in. My father tried to find work but it seemed like everywhere he went, the positions were all filled. He went back to drinking..."  
  
She didn't want to go on; it was agonizing to remember such things about the only family member who had accepted her for who she was. "He started yelling at me one night when I had forgotten to wash the dishes. He threw me onto the small couch we had and started hitting me. I tried to scream for help and get away, but he held me there and threatened to kill me if I didn't shut my mouth..."  
  
Race took her hand and gripped it tightly. He wanted her to know that he was there for her, that she had his support. She smiled sadly at him and sighed. "That's when he started touching me in a way that made me cry. It hurt so much...I thought it'd never end. When it was over, I ran into my room and sobbed." Tears were freely falling from her eyes now, but she didn't bother to wipe them away. "It wasn't the last time he did it either. He'd force me onto that couch at least three times a week. He didn't even care that he was hurting me. Every night I prayed that somehow I would die and not have to go through with it anymore.  
  
"A few months later, he got tired of me and sold me off to a friend of his for some beer money. I like to tell myself that he had no idea what he was doing, but I might as well deal with reality already. The man who 'owned' me then was Calvin. He was actually a gentleman. It took some more months to get use to him, but soon enough I realized he wasn't that bad a guy. I lived with him for six years in Manhattan, twenty minutes away from Sheepshead.  
  
"It wasn't until my twelfth birthday that he took advantage of me. We were at a party for New Year's and after the count down, he dragged me into a back alley and suddenly pressed himself against me. I asked him what the hell he thought he was doing, but before I could stop him, he threw me to the ground and...he lost my trust. I was afraid to tell anyone since Calvin was the only one I had. He kept telling me no one would take a 'dirty brat' in, and I believed him."  
  
Race pulled her closer to him and held her tight. "Don't evah let anyone tell youse somethin' like that. Ya not 'doity', ya me goil! Ya shoulda went tah the police."  
  
"I know that now," she replied softly. "But I didn't know then. So I let Calvin have his way with me. I felt miserable all the while. In the spring, he took me to Sheepshead for a Championship run." A smile graced her lips for the briefest moment. "I had always loved horses. Growing up in the south when I was younger, I was always surrounded by them and I thought they were beautiful. So when I saw them again that day, I knew I wanted to be around them more often.  
  
"Calvin had other plans for me, though. While we were watching the horses ready up for the run, he told me a local Bordello was looking for daytime positions to be filled. I was horrified! I had had enough being abused by my own father and Calvin! I wasn't about to submit to the entire male population of the state! So I jumped to my feet and ran as fast as I could. Unfortunately, it wasn't fast enough. Calvin caught up with me, yanked me into a corner, and slapped me hard.  
  
"And that's when Mr. Webster came. 'Take your hands off the young lady,' he had said to Calvin. Calvin backed away at once. I think he thought Webster was a cop. Either way, he spat at my feet and then walked off. Webster asked me if I was alright afterwards; I broke down into sobs. I told him I didn't have a place to stay or a job to keep me going. You know what he said? 'Now you do, young lady.' And from that day on, I've worked in the stables with the horses I love."  
  
Race was speechless, to say the least. He hadn't expected to hear such a gruesome tale narrated from Becca's lips. She was a sweet, innocent girl with a lovable air about her that was at once welcoming and friendly. She shouldn't have had to go through all those trials, all that hurt. He hugged her close and kissed her hair. "I'm so sorry, Becca. If I'se had known, I wouldn't have pushed ya so hard."  
  
"It's about time I stop dwelling on it, I guess." She rested her head onto his chest. "But do you see now, Race? Do you see why I thought I could only trust the horses? And why I don't have any pictures from the family that hated me? For a long time, I was so afraid of meeting new people. In a way, I still am. But I guess I took the first step today, right?"  
  
He turned her face so that they were eye to eye and then kissed her gently. "Yea, ya did. And youse aint gotta be afraid no more, Becca, cause I'se gunna be heah fer youse always."  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Mallory held her face in her hands as she sat in a corner of her Victorian house and waited as her father received his daily check-up in his bedroom. She almost emitted a cry. In her absence from home, her father's condition had worsened to the point in which a visiting nurse would every day come to the Carter house to tend to the man and make sure all was well. Mallory didn't know what she was going to do. She certainly couldn't continue attending classes while her father was deteriorating in health!  
  
Maybe it would be better if she simply dropped out of St. John's Prep. When she had returned February 15 in newsboy attire, her roommate Samantha had rambled on about how hard covering up for the girl was getting. "You told me you and Lucas would only be gone for a few hours!" the girl had exclaimed that morning. "Not a whole night! What did you expect me to tell Mother Randall when she checked each room before lights out?"  
  
Mallory had received three days of suspension for having left the campus after curfew. It didn't worry her too much, though. As a matter of fact, it gave her much needed time with her father and the home she missed. The doorbell rang then. It was a mailman delivering a telegram from the private school. She signed for it and then hesitantly took it from the man's hand. After closing the door, numerous questions zoomed through her mind.  
  
Had the headmaster decided to expel her? Would her scholarship be taken away from her? Would they demand to know where she had been and with whom? Her heart palpitating, she tore open the telegram and began reading...  
  
~Dear Parent,  
  
Greetings to you from St. John's Preparatory School. We trust that you are good and well.  
  
This telegram is to inform our parents of a recent grievance the student body is making do with. Young Lucas Conlon, a junior here at St. John's, was hospitalized earlier this week after a physical assault outside school grounds. We ask each of you to, as a parent, speak with your child and stress the importance of staying on campus where he/she will be secure from such misdeeds.  
  
If your child will require counseling for the coming weeks, please contact us so that the proper arrangements might be made. And above all, please keep Lucas and the Conlon family in your prayers.  
  
God Bless ~Father Romanik, Assistant Director  
  
Mallory's heart sank. She tightened her grip on the telegram until her knuckles became white, her hands trembling as the words registered in her mind. Hospitalized? But why? What had happened? Why hadn't the Brooklyn newsies saved him? She fell to her knees and stared off into the distance. Would he be all right?  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Spot watched on with reddened eyes as the doctors drew blood from Runner's arm and then exited the room without saying a word. The Brooklyn leader glared after them and then returned his gaze to his cousin. The younger boy slept peacefully under a pile of white sheets in the bed before him, tiny cuts marking his body and a band of gauze swathed around his head where had had been hit.  
  
"Damnit, Runnah, wake up," he groaned. Combing his fingers through his hair, he scooted his chair closer to the boy's bedside and waited, as if he thought Runner would awaken merely because he had demanded it.  
  
The door to the room slowly opened, a young nurse with short brown hair and warm eyes standing in the doorway holding a clipboard. Spot turned to face her and his eyes widened at the pleasant surprise. "Angel! What is youse doin' heah?" He rose to his feet and collected her into a long hug, only to pull her back at arm's length with a smile.  
  
"I'm taking my internship here. After I graduated, the hospital offered me a small job and I took them up on the offer." She smiled back at him. Over five years ago, she and Spot had shared the same classes at St. John's; they'd even been together for a short time. But a change in futures eventually made them go their own ways.  
  
After only a few seconds, Spot remembered the boy behind him. His face darkened and he once again took up his post at Runner's bedside. Angel pulled up a chair and joined him. "When I saw that a 'Lucas Conlon' had been checked in, I came here as soon as I could. I'm so sorry, Spot. I know how much he means to you." She placed a comforting hand on his arm, but his eyes told her he didn't feel any better.  
  
Spot sighed. "I'se been such a joik tah him, Angel. I'se been treatin' him like doit, and even though he acts like it don't mean nothin' and that he don't care, I know it really hoits 'im."  
  
"He's going to be okay. Don't worry about it."  
  
"But I do worry about it! What if he doesn't pull through, huh? The doctor's been sayin' that he's in some deep coma they don't think he can wake up from and I can't help thinkin' that it should be me in that bed instead of him!"  
  
Angel firmly grabbed his face in her hands and forced him to look her in the eyes. "Stop blaming yourself. Nothing you say is going to make the situation any better! Lucas is a strong person, you know that. He's going to make it through."  
  
Spot was captivated by the serenity in her eyes. It almost made him want to stop worrying about Runner. He relaxed in her hold and took her hands in his. "Ya don't know about all the shit I've put 'im through, Angel. I don't know why he keeps lookin' up tah me."  
  
"You're his cousin and probably his best friend too." She laughed playfully. "And sure you can be a jackass sometimes, but that's just the Conlon trait working in." Spot glanced at her dejectedly but she gave him a quick peck on the cheek to prove it was only a joke.  
  
"I'se just hope he..." He didn't get to finish. A door slam interrupted his words. He and Angel looked up to see a suited man approach them, a woman in nun attire behind him. Spot tentatively stood up; it was the first time Angel had seen nervousness in the young man.  
  
The man remained where he was, rigid and obviously angered. Only once did his eyes fall on the sleeping boy upon the bed, and when they did, they instantly diverted their gaze elsewhere. Onto Spot. They burned into him like fire.  
  
"Andrew," the man hissed, "if you ever come near my son again, I will have you arrested by the authorities. Waste your life all you want, but don't you dare take Lucas along with you!" He pointed an accusing finger in Spot's face and his voice rose dauntingly. "Don't think I won't disown you, Andrew! Your father was a worthless drunk fool, and I didn't have a problem turning my back on him."  
  
He looked once more at Runner and then turned on his heels and disappeared out the door. Mother Conlon was left behind, her face stained with tear trails. "Andrew..." her voice was gentle but held within it all the pain a mother losing her son could contain. She covered her mouth as to prevent herself from wailing at the sight of her unconscious son.  
  
"Aunt Patricia," Spot began, but the woman shook her head and left the room as well. The Brooklyn leader collapsed into his rightful chair with a groan. "Great, now me whole family hates me!"  
  
Angel ruffled his hair, grinning. "Ah, don't worry about them, Spotty. As long as you have your buddy Lucas here, you're fine."  
  
"Yea, but I'se beginnin' tah think that I'se gunna lose 'im too."  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Review! Please? Love ya all! ^_^ 


	21. Friends Always Forgive

DISCLAIMER: The characters not found in the movie Newsies belong to me and those that are belong to Disney. Simple as that. Have a nice day. ^_^  
  
A.N. Keep those reviews rolling in! Next week I have to study for my coming SAT, but I'll try to update more often this summer since I have more time on my hands. ^_^ Enjoy this chapter!  
  
*SHOUT-OUTS*  
  
~let: w00t w00t! Another long review! ^_^ Yea, poor Spotty has to take all the blame now. But maybe Runner will wake up once Spot realizes how bad of a cousin he's been. Or maybe not...in any case, enjoy this chapter! Haha.  
  
~kellyanne: 'Heya Runner, we made the Favorites list!' *Runner momentarily wakes up from his coma and high-fives Morning Dew. Then he goes back to sleep* WoW, did we really make ya cry? You have no idea how much of a compliment I take that as; to be able to make someone feel the emotions of the story and all? ^_^ Thanks! And please don't steal Runner. Heehee.  
  
~Meredith: I agree with you. Runner's parents are mean. Well, at least Father Conlon is. Here's another chapter for ya! Thanks for reviewing!  
  
~Jessie: Yea, Snap's a cheating female dog. LoL. I feel so weird writing that considering it's what I'd write to my reviewers 9 chapters ago. ^_^ But it's all good. You'll catch up soon enough. Happy reading and thanks for your faithful reviews!  
  
~Deanie: Yup, good ol' Runner's still around...kind of. Like you said, at least he isn't dead. : ) Mallory could in fact go to see him, though! Then it'd be like sleeping beauty, with a weird disturbing twist! We could call it 'Sleeping Newsie'. High-fiver, Deanie, we're going to go far in life. ^_^ Or maybe I'm just crazy.  
  
~Dimples: Spot's real name is Andrew indeed. I think I may name one of my kids that. I just love the name Andy. It's one of the best! ^_^ So, any new dreams about Eric? *snickers* Enjoy this chapter!  
  
~Random: Don't worry, Race told me the other day that after I was done using him in my story, he would have to go back home to be with you for a few weeks before starting on another project. ^_^ Thanks for reviewing! Here's another chapter!  
  
~Gothic Author: *Jack runs away from screaming G.A.* ^_^ He hasn't practiced lassoing all day, girl! What did ya do to him? Heehee. Hope ya like this chapter!  
  
~Spider Chick: Poor everyone, m'dear. Poor everyone. Hopefully things will brighten up, eh? ^_^ Mucho thanks for the reviews. Enjoy reading this chapter!  
  
~Apollonia: 'Heya Becca, my girl here thinks your life story makes a good movie!' *Race swims in the millions of dollars* Muahaha. Thanks for the review! When are you going to update that new story of yours?! *pouts* Soon I hope!  
  
~Isabelle Gibson: The meaner you are, the longer God will let you live? Dang Spot, you're going to live to be 200 years old! *Spot glares at Morning Dew* LoL. I don't know if that's necessarily true, Gibson. As a matter of fact, I've never heard that figure of speech before. ^_^ But surely it doesn't hold true all the time...hopefully it won't in this story either...but that's just my optimistic side talking. On with the show! And thanks for reviewing!  
  
~nightowl: New reviewer! *The newsies dance to La Bamba* I always like having new readers review! I know this story is a whopper, 20 chapters long and all. But you conquered it, m'dear. *Runner applauds nightowl* Thanks for reading! Hope ya like this chapter!  
  
~StupidChocolateGurl: w00t w00t! Thanks for reviewing, goily! Here's another chapter for youse!  
  
~Chewy: Yea, soak Becca's father! W00t w00t! Heya, here's an idea. Maybe if you get really close to the computer screen and scream at the top of your lungs: "RUNNER, WAKE UP!!!" then maybe he will! Either that or your parents will check you into a mental institution. But if it's all the same to you, I think it's a great idea. LoL. ^_^  
  
~asp: I got your review just as I was about to update. W00t w00t! Good timing, girly! ^_^ Yea, Spot would hate himself if Runner dies. He even hates himself while Runner's only sleeping! Haha, poor Brooklyn. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
*Just A Little Bet*  
  
~~~The next day was certainly an eventful one at the hospital where Runner was being kept. Angel busily flipped through a pile of hospital files she had been given in search of vaccination records when two hands seized her hips and spun her around. She found herself before the mischievous boy she knew as Blink. His eyes sparkled with trouble and his grin widened when he saw he had successfully surprised the girl.  
  
"Heya sexy," he whispered into her ear before greeting her with a kiss that promised more than innocent words.  
  
She was a bit taken aback by the embrace, as it had been weeks since Blink had come to visit her. After so long, she had assumed their relationship was no more. "Where have you been? Ya had me thinking you were caught by the bulls or something. Why haven't you stopped by in such a while?"  
  
Blink shrugged. "I'se been busy," he answered simply, stepping closer for another kiss. But Angel wasn't satisfied with the reply. She wasn't about to be some easy game piece he could manipulate on the side while chasing after a dozen other skirts during the day. She wanted his loyalty, and seeing that she wasn't getting it, she pushed him away and went back to her work. "What'sa mattah?"  
  
"I'll tell you what's the matter," she said, still focusing on the files before her. "You only coming to see me when you want a good time, that's the matter! You not bothering to stop by to say hello, that's the matter! You taking our relationship as if it's some joke, THAT'S the matter!" She turned on him then and her face was tight with anger. "I'm sick and tired of you playing me like I'm some whore you're paying for a quick bed ride!"  
  
"Angel..."  
  
"No, Blink, you listen to me!" She grabbed the files, tucked them under one arm, and started to walk away from him. "You're not the person I thought you were. It's over." Not caring what his response would be, she marched down the halls and left him behind.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Three days passed. A reasonable number of newsies from both the Brooklyn and Manhattan crew were lounging around the hospital's waiting office, for the fact that Runner was being kept in the Intensive Care Unit meant only five individuals were allowed in his room at a time, and so the rest resulted to taking turns in giving Spot their support and either played card games or talked to pass the time.  
  
Scapegoat dealt a hand of cards to each of the newsies gathered around the coffee table before him and began a round of poker. "Alright fellahs, let's make this interestin'. Since we'se gots Vixen playin' wid us, how 'bout we'se make this into strip pokah?" He was lucky the girl was in a good mood. Other times, when someone would make a like comment, she'd pounce on them like a wildcat and beat them until he swore to never degrade her as such ever again.  
  
Today, she was in high spirits and let the boys roar in laughter at the joke. As the noise died down, she spoke up. "I'se wouldn't mind playin' that shit, except what's in it fer me? It's not like either of youse got anything woith showin' off."  
  
Jack grinned at her from across the table. "Baby, I'll take youse tah places ya never been before." A few boys gathered around whistled at the daring statement and patted Jack on the shoulder for his bravery.  
  
Vixen held his haze with just as much playfulness. She liked his persistence and wit; it kept her on her feet thinking of ways to show him up. She also liked how he looked at her whenever he was trying to be seductive, much like he was now. His eyes glistened with a silver shine and drew her closer with their captivating powers. Come to think of it, she wouldn't mind playing strip poker with him at all. Seeing his broad shoulders and well toned chest, the muscles that graced his body...  
  
"Vixen, I do believe youse is blushin'!"  
  
The girl snapped out of her daze and glared at Scapegoat. "Oh please, I aint goin' tah bed with any one of youse, ya heah me? So ya'll go take a cold shower or somethin' and get real."  
  
"What's the problem?" Jack tried, still wearing his grin. "Youse afraid you'll get all shy once youse got a man like me in bed wid ya?"  
  
"That's not it at all, Jacky-boy," she replied with a devilish smirk. "I'se afraid that once youse get me in bed, ya won't know how tah handle me." She winked at him and then excused herself from the table, swaying her hips as she went to retrieve a cup of coffee from the hospital dining area. Scapegoat and the others couldn't help but laugh at Jack's having received utter rejection. The Manhattan leader only smiled knowingly. He knew he'd get Vixen sooner or later.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
The incessant beeping of the life support machine started to grow annoying in Becca's ears and as she watched Runner lying motionless on the bed before her, she could only imagine what Spot Conlon was going through that moment. She didn't know either boy too well, but she remembered how cordial Runner had been when they had met at the Valentine's Dance through Mallory. He seemed a kind person, easy-going and good humored. She prayed he would come to himself soon, for Spot's sake and all the others who loved him.  
  
"So how have youse been doin' Spot?" Race took a seat beside the Brooklyn leader as Becca drew nearer to the two to offer her condolences.  
  
Spot sagged in his chair and tried to register the question. He was beyond exhausted. He hadn't slept all night, convinced that Runner would wake up any minute. "Well, this mornin', me body started feelin' like a herd of elephants walked over it." The pains he had received in Queens were starting to throb and ache, making his entire body sore and a simple action like rising from his seat or pacing around the room a difficult one. "Other than that, me cousin's dyin' and me family wants tah send me tah the refuge. Youse?"  
  
Becca spoke then. She combed her fiery hair behind her ears and spoke in a voice that could soothe even the most unruly of spirits. "Spot, I know you know nothing about me and that my opinion is probably worth nothing, but what your cousin needs right now is people to be positive. You want him to pull through, right? Well you gotta start thinking upbeat. Be optimistic!"  
  
She looked to Race for support and he nodded his head with a smile. She continued. "Life can be hard, believe me, I know! But you can't let what happens determine who you are. You gotta keep fighting the good fight, keep reminding yourself things could be worse. And most importantly, you gotta stay positive."  
  
Race nudged Spot with an elbow and grinned. "That's me goil," he laughed, pulling Becca onto his lap and kissing her proudly.  
  
Spot watched on with a smirk, thinking upon what the girl had just said. She was right. He couldn't simply sit here and proceed to mope over his failures as an older cousin. So he had been a bad friend to Runner, that was all in the past now. He admitted his shortcomings to himself and it was time he move on. Certainly dwelling on the fact that Runner might die wasn't going to bring him back to life!  
  
A nurse walked in then and announced that a doctor wanted to examine the gash on Runner's forehead further and that she would have to take the young boy to another unit of the hospital where he would remain for an hour or so. She suggested that Spot relax in the hospital's dining area to grab a bite to eat. The Brooklyn leader decided that would be best, considering he hadn't eaten no more than a few fries and a glass of water in over a day, and so followed Race and Becca into the halls.  
  
As they walked on in silence, Spot happened to catch a glimpse of himself as he passed a mirror hung onto the wall. He grimaced. One side of his face was swollen and bruised, complimenting a black eye and skin that puffed up near the cheekbone. He looked like someone who had come forth from their grave for revenge. He pushed the matter from his mind. They were only physical wounds, incomparable to the ones that marked his heart.  
  
The trio met up with the rest of their friends in the waiting room, laughter and shouts filling the air. Jack caught sight of Spot and motioned to the others to quiet down. As they crowded around the Brooklyn leader, however, everyone only began to press questions. Was Runner alright? Would he pull through? Had the doctors said anything new?  
  
Spot told them the recent updates and all fell quiet.  
  
Jack interrupted the silence. "Heya Spot, ya uncle was just heah a few minutes ago talkin' tah the receptionist."  
  
"He must be worried like crazy," the other replied.  
  
"Yea, worried about how much it's costing 'im tah keep Runnah heah day by day!"  
  
Spot opened his mouth to protest but Scapegoat gently pushed him aside to stop him. "Seriously Spot," he said. "You think that scab gives a damn about his son? Youse is the only Conlon sleepin' ovah the kid's room every night, who won't leave the place unless we'se drag ya outta there! Runnah's dad has only been heah once, and it was only a one minute visit at that!"  
  
"Well, he's a busy guy," the leader tried.  
  
Jack shook his head. "A guy too busy tah even come see his only son struggle wid a coma? Ya gotta stop defendin' him, Spot. Youse is the only one in ya crazy family who's always there fer Runnah. Ya keep blamin' yaself fer everything, but if it weren't fer youse, Runnah would've ended up being one of those hoity-toity richies that thinks they's above everyone."  
  
Spot didn't question the validity of that assumption. No doubt Runner's life would've been incredibly boring without the newsies...and incredibly less dangerous, he added bitterly. The others waited for him to say something, but his eyes noticed someone then, someone peacefully sitting in the waiting room reading a book. Her raven black hair cascaded past her shoulders and her eyes were peaceful, even as they looked up and met Spot's icy gaze.  
  
"What the hell is SHE doin' heah?!" Spot clenched his fists at his side and stormed off towards the last person he was up to seeing in his current mood. When he was a foot from her, he snatched the book from her grasp, tossed it aside, and demanded to know why she insisted in giving him a bad day.  
  
Snap looked up at him casually. ""I'se came heah tah see Runnah, dumbass. Why else would I'se come?"  
  
"I thought I'se told youse tah stay outta Brooklyn!"  
  
"Yea, ya did," she said simply. "But ya never said anything 'bout Manhattan." She smiled at him and then leaned over to retrieve her book from the tile floor where it had landed. Seeing she'd have to visit Runner a later time when there wasn't so much friction in the air, she rose to her feet and stood before Spot still wearing her smile.  
  
They remained like that for a stretching fifteen seconds before Snap reached out and caressed the Brooklyn leader's cheek with a hand. "Don't be so uptight, Spotty. It doesn't fit ya too well." She left him, but as she neared the exit, she called out an afterthought. "Oh, and by the way, nice shinah."  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
It wasn't until later that night, when the newsboys had retired to their respectful lodging houses and Spot returned to his night watch over Runner, that Mallory finally had an opportunity to visit the boy who was the center of her every thoughts.  
  
She walked the length of the hospital halls on cat's feet and when she had finally reached room number 267, she slowly opened the door and stepped in with the utmost silence. She didn't want to wake up any of the other sleeping family members visiting their loved ones nearby and she definitely didn't want to alarm anyone to her presence. It was after hours at the hospital and technically, she wasn't supposed to be there. But she had managed to convince a janitor to bid her entrance anyways.  
  
The first thing she saw as she entered the room was Spot's figure kneeling at Runner's bedside, his face in his hands. Mallory at first thought he was praying, but when she looked closer, she saw that he was merely on the verge of falling asleep. She cleared her throat to catch his attention, but he didn't hear. "Spot..."  
  
Spot spun around in surprise. "Mallory!" he whispered back in the near darkness of the room. He rose to his feet and closed the distance between them. "It's late."  
  
She nodded her head. "It's the only time I could sneak out of St. John's." She tried to smile but was afraid it would only aid her defenses in going down, and she needed them to resist any charm Spot might put on her. The memories from Valentine's night were fresh in her mind, constantly replaying and crushing her heart. Being this close to Spot worried her; she was afraid she wouldn't have the strength to deny him.  
  
Spot noticed the discomfort almost instantly and wondered whether the girl would be wary around him from now on. He wasn't sure if he cared or not, but he did know that he had to be honest with her. She had to know the truth about everything.  
  
"How's he doing?" Mallory stepped closer to Runner's bed and stared down at him with tear-filled eyes. His lips, the ones she had never felt against her own, were drawn in a straight line as he slept on. His eyes were closed and the lashes she had grown to love cast shadows upon his face. She reached out to stroke his golden hair and smiled at all the memories they had shared.  
  
She remembered when he had led her out of Irving Hall and comforted her on her walk back home. How he had revealed their shared past and assured her that her mother was in a better place. How he had always been there to listen, to hold her in his arms, to...fall in love with.  
  
A tear streaked her face and was followed by another. No, she wasn't in love. At least she didn't think so. But she would admit that she cared ever so much for Runner and felt as if following her heart meant being with him always.  
  
"He never did those things, Mallory."  
  
She started at the sound of the voice, having forgotten she wasn't alone. She glanced up at Spot. "I beg your pardon?"  
  
Spot sighed. He wasn't looking forward to doing this, but he knew it had to be done. "All those things I'se told ya about on Valentine's Day, about Runnah cheatin' on youse and not carin' 'bout youse...well, it was all a lie. He never told me youse weren't his type, and he never slept wid another goil. I was lyin' 'bout everything."  
  
"But, why? I...I don't understand. Why would you do something like that?"  
  
He lowered his voice. "Tah win a bet."  
  
"W-what?"  
  
For some reason he felt ashamed. It was an eerie feeling that he couldn't easily rid himself of. Here was this innocent, beautiful girl who had put her trust in him, only to soon realize it had all been a game. To say the least, he felt like trash. "It was a bet I had made wid a few pals, a bet about youse. We'se was curious 'bout who could win ya ovah foist, so we'se put money on it." He paused to think. "If anything, Runnah was the one completely against it. He had even come tah me one day askin' that I end it 'fore I'se broke ya heart. But I was too stupid tah realize that the woild isn't just about me."  
  
He sat down onto his rightful chair and drummed his fingers on its arms. "The night ya came by tah tell us about Runnah was poifect, but when ya started tellin' me 'bout ya feelings fer 'im, I knew I had tah act quick. So I'se made up a few lies. Just tah win a stupid, lil' bet that meant nothin'. Alls I succeeded in doin', though, is makin' a jackass outta meself."  
  
The last pieces of Mallory's heart that hadn't broken off before, were steadily crumbling away now. How could anyone do such a thing? Had all those times she spent with Spot meant advances for a lousy bet? Had their friendship been nothing more than a step towards winning some idiotic game? Imagine if she had given Spot everything he had wanted!  
  
She stared at Runner, holding back the tears that threatened to fall. Were these the costs Spot was willing to take to see himself as victor? Was money the only thing he held valuable to him? She let her fingers fall onto Runner's hand and traced the smoothness of his skin. Had Spot been so absorbed with winning that he had chanced losing his own cousin?  
  
Spot seemed to hear the unspoken questions. "I know it was a big mistake, Mal. Actually, it's the biggest mistake I'se ever made in me life. And youse aint gotta go on about how stupid it was cause I know. I sit heah day after day and I see 'im not wake up and it just keeps flashin' in me face that I'se messed up big this time around. And I'm sorry."  
  
The word didn't taste too well as it left his mouth; he afterwards felt as if the remains of some repulsive medicine were left as droplets on his tongue. He wasn't the apologetic type, never had been either. It was a humbling move, and though he didn't fancy it too well, he knew it had to be made.  
  
Mallory was unresponsive at first. She watched the rise and fall of Runner's chest and wanted so much to yell at Spot for his mindless thinking. She wanted to chide and scold him for having been such a fool. But what was the use? He was already in enough pain as it was, and after all, he had apologized. Looking into his mournful blue eyes, she knew he really was sorry.  
  
She walked over to him with a smile, pulled him up from his seat, and threw her arms around him in a consoling hug. "Don't worry, Spot. We all make mistakes sometimes. The good thing is, we can always count on our friends to forgive us."  
  
Hearing those words lifted an incredibly large burden off Spot Conlon's heart that night; a burden he originally thought would follow him for the rest of his days. He hugged her back and thanked God he had one more person to help him through this.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Heya You, leave a review! ^_^ Love ya! 


	22. It's Great To Be Back

zDISCLAIMER: Basically, to put it in simple dictation, all the characters in Disney's Newsies belong to Disney. *SuRpRiSe* All the characters NOT in Disney's Newsies belong to Me, with the exception of Angel-she belongs to herself. ^_^  
  
A.N. Only a few more chapters, goils! I'm hoping only 5-9 more, but who knows. The reviews are rolling in nicely. ^_^ I'm giving out free dates with the newsies...I can tell Runner's going to be booked through December. *Runner wakes up from his coma and sticks his tongue out at the others, then goes back to sleep* Heehee. Thanks for the reviews! I love 'em all!  
  
*SHOUT-OUTS!*  
  
~Lovable: Thanks for the review, and here's the update! ^_^  
  
~Kendal: Heya, another Runner fan, ay? Well, we'll see what his fate entails this chapter. Hope ya like!  
  
~Jack Kelly's Lady: w00t w00t! You finally caught up! Kudos for youse! Yea, Runner IS the best thing named Conlon! No offense, Spot. Heehee. Yea, the beeping machine...hahaha, we stole it from present day and brought it back to 1900. ^_^  
  
~shaug: So ya think I characterized Spot well enough? ^_^ YaaaaY! He's a little tramp with a heart! *pats Spot's head* Muahaha! Here's another chapter for youse!  
  
~Apollonia: Yea, it was pretty nice of Mallory to forgive Spot after all that, lol. I would've slapped him silly. ^_^  
  
~Chewy: Don't worry; Snap and Spot will have a little heart-to-heart this chapter. ^_^ And the Blink/Angel relationship will be furthered later on. Wheee! Here's your update! Enjoy!  
  
~imaginelet: Yea, Mallory forgave Spot. *applauds Mallory for putting up with the Brooklyn leader* lol. I guess she didn't have any energy to yell at him. : - )  
  
~Raven: I guess Mallory forgave Spot because she's more concerned about Runner, or because she knows Spot's going through a rough time. *shrugs* lol, yea, Spot is being pretty heartless though. ^_^  
  
~Tiger: Thanks for the review! W00t w00t! Here's another chapter for youse!  
  
~Random: Yea, school is in fact out, so my updates are more...eh, what's the word? More...quicker? Well that didn't sound too eloquent. *grumbles* Anywho, it's coming to an end soon; 5-9 chapters left at the most. : - ( Glad you're liking it so far!  
  
~AnGeL: Hahaha, I stole your 'strip-poker' idea. ^_^ d00d, I'm so waiting for you to upload that story of yours sometime! It's really good, and you already have thirty-something chapters written up. You might as well post chapter 1 at least. Heehee.  
  
~Dimples: Aloha, kiddo! Look, I'm finally updating 'JALB'!!! Yeah! *Spot and Runner throw a party* WoW, not much to say...*thinks hard* Oh, Spot actually went out last night and bought Jamie a dress! It has watermelons on it! : - )  
  
~Penny Lane: Hello, m'dear. Glad you checked in to read this story. : - ) It'd probably be a better read once it's finished since it's a whopper of a story. Thanks for the review! Hope you enjoy it once you start!  
  
~Rhapsody: Heehee, you professing you undying love for Runner should be enough incentive to make him wake up. *Runner peeks open an eye, smirks, and goes back to sleep* ^_^ Thanks for your faithful reviews!  
  
~Gothic Author: In simplest terms, poor everyone! Heehee, no one is happy but Jack and Vixen, Race and Becca. Bah! Hopefully things will soon take a turn for the better. W00t w00t! Here's another chapter for youse!  
  
~Spider Chick: Thanks for the review, goily! Since you asked so nicely, here's an update fresh off the press! ^_^ Enjoy!  
  
~Deanie: Yea, I just noticed our beloved newsboys are typical cheaters. *sigh* But little by little, I'm noting personality changes. Who shall be next? Spot perhaps? *shakes magic 8 ball: Are you kidding me?* Hmmm, didn't think so, lol.  
  
~Isabelle Gibson: Ah, you commended Spot for being honest! *Spot takes a bow* Heehee. And that's the way to talk, Runner WILL live! Positive thinking, wheee!  
  
~kellyanne: Mucho thanks for the compliments! ^_^ I'm touched, really. Heehee. Awww, Runner didn't wake up when you screamed? Hmmm...*scratches head* Maybe he's a bit on the tried side? Ah well, who knows. lol. Here's another chapter for youse! Enjoy!  
  
~jayla: Mucho thanks for the compliments and I'm glad you're liking this story. Here's another chapter! ^_^  
  
~Weather Girl: Here's your update, girly! Have fun reading it! Thanks so much for the review!  
  
~Lanen: Yea, Mallory IS sweet for forgiving Spot. ^_^ Spot, you should feel special that I let her forgive youse! *Spot rolls his eyes* Haha, oh well. Here's a long awaited chapter for faithful reviewers like you!  
  
*Just A Little Bet*  
  
~~~Spot Conlon's ribs felt like iron rods clamoring unceasingly within him. The pain was so excruciating he had even asked Angel to pilfer a few painkillers for him when none of the doctors overseeing her were watching. She gladly obliged him, but the medication did nothing to soothe his hurt. Every morning upon waking up, he could still feel the bats crash onto his legs and winced when invisible blades punctured his flesh. He never could figure out whether he was living in and out of nightmares or whether he'd be forced to live in such a dire condition for weeks to come.  
  
All he knew was that he'd willingly endure the pain forever if it meant Runner would break from his coma. Spot never realized how much the boy meant to him until he was on the threshold of losing him to death. It had never occurred to him that he'd actually miss hearing Runner's jokes, dares, and prideful declarations that he was the best Conlon of them all. He didn't think he'd ever long to hear the boy laugh his heart out at one of Jack's pickup lines, or complain about how Brooklyn was nothing without him.  
  
Thinking on it brought a smile to Spot's lips, though it was short lived for it hurt his face to merely express himself! Angel told him the skin on his lips was cracking and would eventually peel off, but the process drove the Brooklyn leader mad. He'd rather cut the dead skin off himself than to subject himself to sheer torture.  
  
So to keep his mind off the ever-present pain, he decided to take a stroll around the hospital halls while doctors were checking up on Runner's condition. There was one place that called to him more loudly than all the others and it not being in his nature to deny his instincts the need for reassurance, Spot descended to the bottom floor of the hospital and without a moment's hesitation, entered into the chapel half-expecting to instantly receive a miracle.  
  
He was glad none of the other boys were around to see Brooklyn's leader at such a state. Jack had told him earlier that his funds were depleting and that he'd have to go back to paper-peddling from now on since sitting in a hospital waiting room wasn't providing him with the money he needed to survive. One by one, the others from both Manhattan and Brooklyn offered their sympathies but also claimed they'd have to start working again.  
  
Spot fully understood and was even thrilled at their absence, for it gave him time to reflect upon what had happened and find a peace of mind in the chapel. Some of the boys thought faith was man's weakness, but Spot thought it to be strength with unimaginable powers. Now religion, he thought, probably was man's great downfall. But the silent midnight pleas of a young believer...that was passion, and he knew without it, he'd be no more than another jerk off trying so badly to be someone he wasn't.  
  
The chapel was lit naturally, the sun's beams shining through the painted glass windows, but there were also candles behind the kneeling rail-most of which had been lighted. Spot took off his hat and walked down the middle aisle reverently, consuming the silence and spirit of the room, but stopped dead in his tracks when his eyes fell upon a familiar form sitting at a pew towards the front.  
  
He gripped the fabric of his hat until his knuckles turned white and then marched forth angrily, grabbing the person by the arm and shaking them. "Why the hell d'ya think youse can just come heah whenever ya want and piss me off?"  
  
Snap gave him an incredulous look and shoved him away, massaging her upper arm which was now reddening from Spot's tight hold. "Sorry tah lower ya ego, sweetheart, but I don't come tah this place fer the pleasure of drivin' ya crazy, though that wouldn't be too bad an idea right now."  
  
"Why don't ya just get outta heah and stop buggin' the hell outta me! What makes ya think ya even wanted heah? Damnit, goil, go live in some bordello for Christ's sake!"  
  
"Why don't youse go tah hell, ya damn bastard!" she threw back at him, standing to her feet and stepping closer to him in her defense. She was tired of Spot treating her as if she were some two-cent whore to whom no respect was due. People did what they had to do in order to make a living in this life, and she wasn't about to be disgraced and thrown about like a piece of trash just because he wasn't keen with her ways of bringing in the money.  
  
They stood with their faces an inch apart, staring each other down with a fierce resolve, neither about to give in to the other. Spot was infuriated by her stubbornness but was also impressed by her will power to stand her ground. It challenged him in a way no other girl had, and he despised that. "How 'bout I give youse one minute tah get outta me face," he hissed, "and then youse can go back tah the streets and let some joik knock ya up for a dime?"  
  
"Don't you remember?" she replied with a forced smile, her eyes set in a glare. "Youse was the only customer of mine tah fall head over heels, so I'se kinda feel obliged tah stay behind and make shoah you'll be able tah cope without me when I finally decide tah leave."  
  
"The hell I fell head over heels! Ya really think youse had me fooled by ya lil' -I want a relationship- bullshit? Get over yaself. I'se don't settle down with sluts."  
  
He had hurt her, but she wasn't about to show it. This was a battle and she wasn't going to become one of his casualties. "Big surprise there, youse aint ever gunna settle with anyone! Ya too much of a jackass fer any goil tah wanna be wid youse!"  
  
"And is that why ya still heah?" He crossed his arms and smirked in victory, sporting the cocky lopsided grin Snap found herself loathing all the more.  
  
"I'se heah 'cause ya cousin is the only guy 'round these parts that still has respect in his face, who doesn't use goils like they's trash. Ya think I don't know 'bout that bet youse pulled off for Mallory? Ya think I don't know how it was all fer a lousy twenty bucks?" She pushed past him and spun around on her heels to address him one more time. "Ya think ya so sexy, Spot, but one day youse is gunna end up alone...and no one's gunna give a damn."  
  
Spot couldn't find the words to devise a comeback. Her attack had been so swift and had taken him by surprise that his mind neared a shut down. As he watched her storm out of the chapel, he wondered upon what she had said. Was she right? Wasn't it wrong for him to condemn her when he was guilty of doing the same thing...using people for his own selfish gains?  
  
He shook his head. He had gotten over that a long time ago, had even apologized! A thought hit him, then. Perhaps she was only trying to apologize as well, yet every time she was offered the opportunity, he'd only knock her down. He kicked a nearby pew with a short yell and mourned over the fact that he would never understand women.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
The hallways of St. John Prep echoed with the chattering voices of its students as classes were dismissed from lunch and hungry teenagers marched off on their way to the cafeteria, wondering all the while what meal had been cooked up for them this afternoon. One among the crowds walked to a different step, feet shuffling against the tiled floor in a dejected manner and figure withdrawn into itself to make others aware she was in no mood to socialize. Mallory looked down at the pink pass she held in her hand and sighed.  
  
During her math orientation sessions she had been given a note by one of the teachers written by Father Romanik-who he was, she did not know. But apparently he wanted to see her in his office immediately following third period to discuss what he described in his correspondence as "a grave matter".  
  
She was at once curious, but also afraid. Had the school's counsel of administrators decided that her failure to comply with their curfew rules was a disgrace to the honor and integrity of attending such an elite institution? Would they rebuke her scholarship because they saw no promising potential in the work she had turned in as of late? Her deliberation quickly evolved into anxiety as she came unto the door which would lead her into Father Romanik's classroom.  
  
She tried to compose herself within the mere seconds she was allotted before her scheduled meeting with him, and then entered into the room with a shaky confidence. A tall man with graying hair stood before the chalkboard, discussing with a student what must have been the day's lessons, for the student was trying ever so hard to explain why he thought the historians mentioned in the taught lecture had not enough credentials to be considered reliable.  
  
They debated this matter in respectful tones for a few minutes until the man noticed Mallory and apologizing to his student said, "I'm sorry, Master Shelley, but we'll have to find another time to throw our ideas off each other." Shelley nodded in understanding, gathered his book-bag and notebook, and reluctantly left the room.  
  
"So," Father Romanik began once Mallory was his only audience, "you're the wonderful Miss Carter I've heard so much about." Mallory wasn't quite sure whether the things the man had heard were of any benefit to her now, so she merely remained silent. "Oh, no need to be wary, child. I'm but an old friend of your dear comrade Lucas."  
  
She thought she understood then, but couldn't be too certain, and so she sat at a desk at the front of the class and waited for him to go on.  
  
Father Romanik smiled warmly at her. She was just as Lucas had described, he thought. She had the properness of a well-brought up young lady and a shy demeanor that was becoming hard to find in an age when youth wanted to be rambunctious free-born who cursed tradition.  
  
"I've heard from countless sources that you and Master Conlon are rather close friends...best friends I might say. But ever since his admittance into the hospital, my co-workers tell me that your performance in your classes has somewhat regressed. You no longer receive high marks and during class discussions, you offer not a word.  
  
"Now I'm aware that you're father is also suffering from ill health and that it undoubtedly has affected you as one of our scholars as well, but I want you to know that whenever you need to talk over something or have any kind of problem, I'm here for you. The school has several counselors on staff as well and you can visit any one of them as it pleases you. Just please don't let your chance at a great future crumble at the first signs of trials. Lucas and your father are in our prayers, and you must have faith that they will get well.  
  
"And remember, my door is always open should you require assistance in any fashion. Lucas entrusted much to me, and I hope you will come to do the same. I'm a teacher, Miss Carter, but above that I'm a mentor. I will go beyond the limits to help you in any way I can."  
  
Mallory was taken aback by such an affable deliverance of words. This had been the least of her expectations! She sat up in her seat and smiled graciously at the man, thankful that anyone could care so much about both her academic and social life the way he did. It was no wonder Lucas was such a gentleman. With teachers such as Father Romanik guiding his steps and offering a helping hand, students were carefully molded into courteous citizens with ever-pondering minds.  
  
"Thank you," she said in reply. "It's been very difficult but I'll keep your offer in mind and I'll try to work harder. Hopefully, I won't have to feel this way for too long. My father's house-call nurses say he's been improving and as for Lucas...well, someone with a spirit like his own certainly can't leave life so young." As she made the statement, a lump in her throat was forming and it was all she could do to keep from shedding a fresh release of tears. She glanced away and allowed her emotions to settle before speaking again.  
  
Rising from the seat, she shook hands with Father Romanik and even gave him a small embrace. "Thank you," she said again. "It's comforting to know I'm in others' thoughts." She said her goodbye's then, and with a mention that she would miss lunch if she didn't leave sooner or later, she exited out the classroom and continued down the halls, determined not to cry...at least not in front of anyone.  
  
She turned a corner and seeing no one before her, leaned herself against a set of lockers and covered her face in her hands. Her life was falling apart right before her! First it had been Spot and his confession concerning the bet with her as its game piece. She didn't even have to think too long to conclude who the other players had been. No doubt Jack and Race had enjoyed their share in the confounded gamble, as they were the main ones with whom Spot had socialized these past weeks. Then, poor Lucas- perhaps the most pure of heart among them-had to be the one standing on the verge of demise!  
  
Life was a mysterious puzzle sometimes, filled with complexities and injustices that simply did not make sense! Why Lucas? Why the one she was starting to love dearly? And why her father? Why the only blood-relative she had left in this world?  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
Mallory gasped in surprise and jumped at the sound of the voice, bringing down her hands to unmask her face and finding herself looking into the eyes of a girl around her age, holding the hand of a child who seemed to be her sister.  
  
"Sorry if I scared you," the elder girl said. "If you don't mind, me and my sister are new here. We've only been staying in the monastery for a few weeks now and still can't find our way around this school. Could you tell us where the lunch room is?"  
  
"Uhm..." Mallory took a moment to gather her bearings and then found the voice to answer. "If you walk down this hall, go out those doors, and make a left until you come to the student union building, you'll find it in there."  
  
"Thank you!" the other laughed. "I feel like a tourist asking for directions like this!" Momentarily releasing her sister's hand, she pulled her black hair back into a ponytail and then held out a hand to Mallory. "My name's Marysol. This is my sister Chelsea. We're actually looking for our older sister, Natasha. Maybe you know her?"  
  
Mallory definitely wasn't familiar with the name, but there was something about Marysol's face that reminded her of a Manhattan newsgirl she had seen now and again. Assuming this was nothing more than another girl with no affiliations to the two she now spoke with, she brushed the idea aside and shook her head. "Sorry, I haven't. But I'm sure you'll find her eventually. Our school is kind of small actually so you shouldn't have a problem."  
  
"Well thanks anyways," said Marysol as she once again took her sister's hand and started towards the cafeteria. "See you around!"  
  
"Bye." She waved at the siblings and watched them leave, wondering why she felt as if she somehow knew them.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
That night, Spot took up his vigilance at Runner's bedside and thought about his confrontation just that morning. What were Snap's true intentions in following him every which way? Was she truly sorry, only wishing to make amends and send her condolences...or was she hiding another devious scheme behind those striking gray eyes? Damn, how he hated her. She was like an inner-pest slowly eating away at everything he had worked so hard to become.  
  
Why did she have the power to make him feel like this? As if he were wrong in everything...he didn't like feeling guilty and vulnerable around women. It was a weakness he detested. Yet here was this seemingly ordinary girl who came from nowhere and defied him in ways he couldn't sidestep.  
  
He reclined back in his chair and muttered something under his breath while a pair of doctors outside passed by the doorway. They stopped and looked in at Runner, then at Spot. After exchanging a few whispered words, they looked at Spot once more and then continued on their nightly checkup.  
  
Spot shrugged. They were probably trying to build up the courage to kick him out of the hospital. After all, for weeks now he had slept over past visiting hours, but no one had the nerve to advise him against his breaking the policy. They'd have to drag him out, he decided.  
  
He could feel sleep overcoming him and watched the shadows of the room grow and shrink in size until his eyelids grew too heavy to keep open. "Stay up a lil' longer, Conlon," he told himself, rubbing his eyes with his hands. He always managed to stay awake until about midnight, but a weariness he couldn't resist was falling upon him. Kneeling at the boy's side, Spot rested his elbows on the mattress and propped his head up on his hands.  
  
"Just an hour more..." he yawned. But the seconds turned to minutes, and the minutes into stretching hours. His mind began to wander and steadily, his figure sagged forward onto Runner's arm.  
  
He guessed that he had gotten about fifteen minute's worth of sleep when he felt a sudden movement underneath him. He awoke with a start, immediately assuming he had imagined it, but then his eyes began playing tricks on him when he thought he saw Runner's head twitch ever so slightly.  
  
"Jesus, Conlon," he grumbled to himself. "Youse need tah stop takin' so many painkillers in one day." Staring at Runner to make sure it had only been some minor strain of a hallucination, he set his mind right and was about to rest again when his ears picked up a soft moan of pain. Spot bolted up to his feet and leaned over his younger cousin.  
  
"Runner? Runner!" He grabbed the boy's shoulders and started nudging him, desperate to receive just one more proof that Runner was breaking from his unconscious state. "Runner!" He cupped his hand around the younger Conlon's ear and yelled at full volume. "RUNNER!"  
  
Runner's face furrowed, his forehead making creases and his nose crinkling from the disturbance. His eyes still shut, he bit down on his bottom lip and tried moistening it in hopes of getting a word out...but he was so dizzy...  
  
"RUNNER!"  
  
His ears were ringing with the repetition of his name, each yell growing louder and louder in volume until he was sure his head would explode from the tension. Who the hell was the jerk doing it, anyway? If only he could get his body to move, he'd give them a piece of his mind. Using all the force in him, he tried to open his eyes but they still wouldn't budge.  
  
"Heya, get me a doctor in heah! Me cousin's comin' outta his coma!!"  
  
That voice sounded so familiar but he couldn't place a name. Sport? Spoil? Spot? He mentally shrugged. Ah, who cared? His head was spinning at an immeasurable pace and he needed to find a way to drive out the faintness. That's when it happened. His eyes finally found the strength to open! At first, they remained only as slits...then became half-opened...and then at last opened to their full size so that he was blinded by the detail of the room, even in the dim lighting.  
  
A boy older than him peered down excitedly, a grin on his face from ear to ear. Spot...? Runner tried to swallow but his throat was too dry, once again prohibiting him from speaking. He didn't think he'd be able to sit up either if it hadn't been for Spot, who wrapped an arm around his back to support him as he rose from a sleeping position.  
  
Spot couldn't contain his elation. "Runner! Damnit, youse had me friggin' scared tah death, ya know that! Ya lil' scab!" He tackled the boy down and ruffled his hair affectionately, embracing him as if they were long-lost relatives.  
  
Runner felt his head burst with new pain, but he was too weak to push Spot away, and so he remained motionless. Once the elder had gone off for a good ten minutes expressing his joy and thankfulness, Runner felt his mouth opening. "He-ya," he croaked in unattractive syllables. Clearing his throat, he coughed out the dryness. "Hey...who, uh...who are youse?"  
  
Spot's smile dropped and the sparkle in his eyes was replaced with worry. He hurried towards Runner again and held the boy at eye level. "Runnah...Lucas, it's me! Ya cousin! I'se ya cousin, Lucas! We'se was in a big fight together and, and...it's me Andrew! Runnah, ya gotta remember. Andrew Conlon, ya dad is the high priest at St. John's...we'se was newsies together, you and me!" He started shaking him, as if that would bring back the memories. "It's ME!!!"  
  
"Jesus Spot!" the younger replied, successfully attempting to put a smirk on his face. "I'se was only kiddin'."  
  
"Ya lil'.........!" Spot's jaw dropped open when he realized it was all in jest. What a low joke! He was about to smack the kid upside the head, but upon seeing the gauze still swathed over Runner's wounds, he thought it best to merely express his anger in words. "Once ya get outta this place, I'se gunna soak the hell outta youse, ya heah me?"  
  
Runner was able to roll his eyes, but it dizzied him, throwing him off track for a minute before he remembered what he was going to say. "Yea, shoah ya are. What happened tah all that shit youse was just sayin' 'bout how ya gunna treat me like an older cousin should from now on?"  
  
"Bullshit!" Spot laughed. Getting serious, however, he offered his cousin a genuine smile. "Nah, but really, it's great tah have ya back, kid." He leaned down and gave the boy a small hug.  
  
"Well, it's great tah be back," Runner replied, still in the embrace.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Yea short chapter, but ya'll have waited long enough so I uploaded ASAP. Next chapter will have more Jack & Vixen. Please Review! Please Review!  
  
ATTENTION: If you have a fic finished or unfinished that you want to submit for my first ever newsies fanfic contest, let me know in your review and I'll send you the info! Come on and enter! It'll be fun, and winners get banners! W00t w00t! You may even get an award from Runner!  
  
SECOND ATTENTION: ^_^ I'm writing a new story for those of you who haven't seen it. It won't come out until "Brooklyn Boys" and this baby is finished, but I'm doing a casting call right now. Roles are being filled really quickly, so if you want to be in it, go to my profile and check out the story "Eternal Avenger". Read up the summary and if you like, send me a profile in your review.  
  
All right, that's all! REVIEW PLEASE! Oh Wait!!!!  
  
THIRD ATTENTION: Plugs!!!!  
  
Past, Present and Pride by Aurora Conlon  
  
Careless Whispers and Silent Sounds by Apollonia  
  
Opening Up by Dimples  
  
and that's all for now. ^_^ Okay, bye bye! 


	23. What Else Did You Do?

DISCLAIMER: Basically, to put it in simple dictation, all the characters in Disney's Newsies belong to Disney. *SuRpRiSe* All the characters NOT in Disney's Newsies belong to me, with the exception of Angel-she belongs to herself. ^_^  
  
A.N. Okay, short shout-outs this time around. ^_^ Lots of love to: Tiger, Chewy, imaginelet, kellyanne, Drama-Queen, Rhapsody, Lovable, asp, and StupidChocolateGurl, Random, dot, and Isabelle Gibson! Thank you everyone! Wow, this story has been long in the making, huh? And it's...almost done! *grabs Runner and starts sobbing* Hahaha. Well, for those of you who want to read a story of mines on the side, check out "The Brooklyn Boys". w00t w00t!  
  
*Just A Little Bet*  
  
The Manhattan distribution center was crowded with throngs of newsies as the paper-peddling youth of the borough waited in a huddle to obtain their share of editions, some playfully brawling with each other, others talking in low voices, and most trying to drive away the tiredness of yet another day. Jack Kelly was at the front of the line as always, his well- defined form leaned onto the brick exterior of the office before him, a grin plastered across his face. His hazel eyes were of a bright honey shade and glowed with playful expectation at the one whose sight they beheld.  
  
"So Vixen...ya thinkin' of sleepin in the boys' bunkroom tahnight?" As he spoke, he wound his hands in and out of the bandana he held, giving them some distraction to tend to as to not deal full attention on the girl.  
  
Vixen crossed her arms with a smirk and raised an eyebrow at the inquiry. Upon first meeting him, she had had every notion to assume Jack a serious fellow, never one to offer sly and devious comments to a lady whose company he desired. Unlike the scabs in Brooklyn, Jack's newsies were somewhat more tolerant and cordial, the gentlemen of the lower class. Yet here the leader was, never ceasing in trying to break her guards, especially when an audience of his boys was nearby.  
  
"Nah," she said slowly, diverting her gaze as if in deep thought. "I'se hoid there's alotta rats in that damn hellhole of yours, and not all of them is rodents." She winked at him, then, and walked forth to cut him in line.  
  
Jack rolled his eyes while Blink, Bumlets, Race, and Much laughed, but remained of a suave demeanor while he kept up his post upon the wall his body leaned against. He tied his bandana around his neck and then relaxed his arms at his sides, all the while staring at Vixen's figures, one side of his mouth upturned into a smirk.  
  
Drumming his fingers against the wall, he ignored the snickering of his friends and instead thought upon how he could possibly win this girl over. She was a sexpot...smart and cunning. She wasn't going to let this be any easier for him than he would make it for her, but he appreciated that. It made the experience all the more worthwhile.  
  
A few minutes passed and he grew restless. What was taking the distributors so long today? Usually, the newsies were situated with their papers and ready to hawk headlines by an hour past dawn. Jack shuffled his feet so as to prevent them from falling asleep and let his eyes once again fall upon Vixen's backside. Her long caramel-colored locks trailed down her back like velvet streamers, filling the Manhattan leader with an urge to comb his fingers through them.  
  
Then again, he knew doing something of the like when a handful of his newsies were undoubtedly watching would spread the rumor that he was going soft. He groaned and fixed his cowboy hat further down his head to hide in the shadows it cast across his face. The sun was steadily growing strong and he would have nothing to do with its burning rays.  
  
"Ya know what I wonder, Jack?"  
  
He looked up; a bit surprised Vixen had spoken. She was still facing the other way, but somehow it meant much knowing she had been the first to start the conversation. "Why we'se aint never slept together? Yea, I know. I wonders 'bout that too a lot. Alls ya gotta do is ask me, though, sweet face. I'll take ya fer a ride any night."  
  
Vixen turned to face him now, gracing his pride with a wicked smile. "Oh trust me, Jack. When I'se wants tah sleep wid youse, you'll know it. You'd get as much of me as ya want but won't ever feel a damn thing cause it'll all be in ya sick dreams."  
  
They tried to stare down each other after this, but seeing that neither was willing to renounce pride and walk away from the duel, Jack spoke up, eyes affixed on Vixen. "So what did ya wanna know darlin'?"  
  
Tired of this trivial game, she stepped closer to him and rested her back onto the wall beside him, able to see the line of newsies extend in a queue that far exceeded any length she knew. How many street rats like her were there? Her mind began to deliberate this issue, but when she felt Jack's eyes pierce through her flesh she remembered what she had wanted to ask of him.  
  
"Didn't ya say something 'bout youse not wantin' anything tah do wid Brooklyn?"  
  
Jack shrugged. "Yea," he answered simply.  
  
"Well, then why did ya help Spot when he came over heah fer Manhattan's help? I mean, youse went off every night 'bout how much ya hated the bastard and how ya wished he'd get what was comin' tah him one day...but as soon as he comes knockin' on ya door fer help, ya jump. I just, I dunno...I'se just aint never understood that I guess."  
  
Jack wasn't sure what had prompted her to ask the question, but he was thankful to the source nonetheless. He hadn't even discussed with his own emotions why he had been so forgiving when Spot was at his time of need. Why hadn't he slammed the door in Spot's face? Why hadn't he simply claim that Runner wasn't Manhattan's problem? He supposed it, first of all, had to do with the fact that Runner *was* everyone's problem, for he was best friend to almost everyone within the alliance community. This being realized, he certainly couldn't turn down an attempt to rescue the young Conlon from Brooklyn's top enemy.  
  
Then there was the case of Jack's run-in with Spot. Any sane person would have to admit that the comrades arguing over some girl they both knew nothing about was pure ludicrous! They had been best friends for the longest of time...how could they let something so absurd get in the way of that friendship? Jack knew this, and he assumed Spot did as well. But both were too prideful to admit it.  
  
Up until Brooklyn required Manhattan's help. Jack couldn't imagine what it had taken for the most revered newsie throughout the state to embrace humility and confess he needed help...that the almighty Spot Conlon, hero of the young riffraff's legends, wasn't as infallible as the tales depicted him. Maybe Jack thought that an apology all in itself, for Spot had never before submitted himself to anyone...and vowed he never again would.  
  
"I don't know," was Jack's only reply after all that thought. "I guess it's just stupid holdin' things against someone, ya know? Shoah we'se done some stupid crap tah each other, and have fought fer no reason. But above all, Spot's me best friend, so I aint gunna stop talkin' tah him or anything."  
  
Vixen nodded, fully understanding. "I think I know what ya mean," she said softly, her eyes almost glazed. "Me and Runnah were like the woise enemies youse would ever see. God, I hated that kid...and I coulda sworn he wanted tah kill me sometimes. We'se cursed each other out, fought for Spot's attention, and just tried tah find ways tah get the other kicked outta Brooklyn fer good."  
  
The distribution office opened, and Vixen momentarily paused her reiteration to buy her daily supply of forty papers. She descended the mini staircase on the side of the platform situated before the office and waited for Jack to collect his editions. When the Manhattan leader joined her minutes later, they started to walk on together towards the streets.  
  
"When I found out that Runnah was in a coma," she finished, "I found meself prayin' that he'd wake up. Yea, me and the kid has been through hell, but no one desoives tah die the way he was beaten up. At least no one like him. Seein' him near dead at the hospital made me forgive him fer everything." She smiled up at him and was inwardly warmed to see him smile back.  
  
Jack draped his free arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer to him. "Awww, Vixie. Youse is goin' soft on someone? Before ya know it, you'll be kissin' the kid and tellin' him youse will always be heah fer him."  
  
"Actually, that's already been done, sweetheart. At the party we'se held fer him last night? Well, I felt so bad that I figured I owed him as much." She laughed at his displeased face, pulled away from his embrace, and walked off proud as ever.  
  
Jack glared after her. Why did Runner always get the girls?  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Scribbling away on a piece of paper while in the silent confines of his private room in the monastery, Runner's lips were graced with a smile as his mind set its thinking elsewhere. Brooklyn and Manhattan had thrown him a 'homecoming' party at Irving Hall, one which had required him to sneak away from his father's supervision to attend, and it had proven to be quite the bash. Everyone had seemed to be enthralled that he was once again in good health, and that alone made him feel of more human worth. Even once- enemies had wished him well upon learning that he had awoken from his coma.  
  
Medda sang a special song for his return, her beautiful eyes directed solely on him the whole time. It was enough to make all the others incredibly envious...enough to make Runner grin all the more at the fine treatment he was receiving. His teachers were understanding whenever he wished to leave class early because of 'headaches' and the load of work he received from classes drastically decreased from its typical size. He was, to say the least, living quite the life.  
  
Although he didn't particularly like his father any more for the unkind words he had spoken to Spot at the hospital that one night. Runner had learned of the event from Angel, and though he wasn't too surprised, it still disappointed him that the man dared obtain the audacity to speak to Spot in such a condescending manner. Well, he could speak for himself all he wished, the young Conlon decided, but Runner would never turn his back on his own blood.  
  
His anger coursing through him, he erred in a sentence he had been translating into another language, the ink blotting across the thin paper in an unattractive smear. Runner groaned, crumbled the sheet into a ball, and started over yet again. He knew one day he'd have to stand up to his father, himself, but things were just too hard nowadays. For once thing, his parents treated him as if he were a fragile, glass ornament that would shatter any minute if mishandled. It drove him utterly mad, especially when they prohibited him from socializing with large crowds during recreation and dropped him out of the sport teams he had been planning to participate in during late spring.  
  
Sure he still wore the cloth bandage about his forehead, but he was healthier than ever! Why couldn't they see that? Another thing that worried him was his father's refusal to let him be in the company of the newsies. Runner cursed; the newsies were the best friends he had ever met! He'd sooner leave this lifestyle than sacrifice his friendship with them.  
  
It seemed as if Father Romanik was the only one who understood him sometimes. Unlike Runner's own dad, Father Romanik cared nothing for social classes, wealth, or other petty matters of the like and he wasn't in any bit a hypocrite. He was an honest, kind man with a big heart who was always ready to hear one out. When was the last time Father Conlon had mirrored such attributes?  
  
Runner shook his head and pushed the matter aside. It only frustrated him to think of his father, so why should he stress himself out with the thoughts? His hand taking up the natural flow of translating, he once more let his subconscious disengage to daydreams.  
  
He had just reached the last few sentences in his document when someone knocked upon his door, startling him and causing his pen's ink to daub across the paper that would've been his final draft.  
  
"Come in," he sighed, as he ripped the sheet down the middle and disposed of it. He fully expected his visitor to be either his mother or father, come to retrieve him for some service he had all but forgotten, yet when the person didn't speak right away, Runner looked up from his desk and was rendered speechless at the sight before him. It was Mallory! His heart had been with her all along, and when he hadn't seen her at Irving Hall the other night, he wouldn't grant his mind the pleasure of dwelling on the reasons why. Though he hadn't seen her at all during lunch or in the hallways of school, he knew that she would eventually come to him if she cared about him as he did her.  
  
Mallory shyly walked into the room and closed the door behind her, not being able to wipe the smile from her face as she did so. They both knew she was skipping class to be there, but neither of them really cared. She folded her hands behind her back and stood looking at him, as if unsure of what to do. If anything, she hoped that he would not sense her palpitating heart and nervousness.  
  
Runner's grin spread from ear to ear. He arose to his feet in a quick movement, walked around his desk, and approached the girl affectionately. "Mallory, I thought the administration had sent you home...where've you been?" When he was just inches from her, he held out his arms and beckoned her forth. She willingly accepted the gesture and they stood in a gripping hug for the following moments, cherishing every single second.  
  
"Oh, I've been here," she said softly, her arms still around his neck and her head resting upon his shoulder. "I just wanted to give you time to...recuperate, I guess."  
  
Holding her like that, he knew he didn't want to let go. Ever. She felt so soft within his arms, a treasure only for him. He wanted to squeeze her tighter and tell her how much he had missed her; he wanted to entangle his fingers with the curls of her hair and tell her how much she meant to him. Feeling her against him, her breath against his skin and her body pressed into his own, made him want to simply confess his feelings for her.  
  
He breathed in her scent and then slowly pulled away, still embracing her. "Mallory, Valentine's Night I believe we started something we never got to finish." His eyes shone brighter than a jewel hit by the sun's rays, and one could already tell he was about to become the happiest young man alive. He caressed the girl's cheek with one hand and then inch by inch, leaned in towards her lips, every fiber in him aching to taste their sweetness.  
  
But just as he was about to lock the kiss, Mallory stepped back out of his arms and looked away, her face clouding over to hide her thoughts.  
  
"What's the matter?" Runner asked in sheer confusion, stepping closer to her. When she didn't retreat, he continued on until he was holding her again. But she wouldn't look him eye to eye. He placed his thumb below her chin and raised her face upwards. "Mallory," he whispered. "What's wrong? I thought this is what you wanted."  
  
Mallory hugged herself timidly and walked to Runner's desk where she could have the firm structure to lean upon, fearing her knees would give out from under her if she stood without support. She watched with sad eyes as Runner followed her suit worriedly, though he made her all the more tense by choosing to stand right in front of her, one hand placed on the desk to her left.  
  
"Are you okay?" he asked then, when no conversation had passed between the two after a minute. She nodded, but uttered no reply. "Do you want to go back to class? I mean, if you're worried about getting caught, I'll just meet up with you later. It's really no..."  
  
"Lucas, it's not that," she answered, her voice so gentle. She was still trying to figure out why she wasn't shaking as uneasy as she was. Runner's emerald irises seemed to penetrate her defenses to see clearly the lies her heart kept locked up. Did he know about her rendezvous with Spot? Was he waiting for her to reveal it in her own words? Her eyes grew watery as she thought upon the pain she might cause him if he, in fact, was unaware of the event! In place of the love he so dearly showed towards her, would there be only hate?  
  
Runner sighed lightly and moved closer to the girl. "Mallory," he said to her, more in a pleading tone, "please tell me what's the matter." He stared at her and waited for his gaze to be returned, but she only kept looking off to the wall, or floor, or any other viewpoint that did not include him. So he did the only thing that came to mind; he grabbed her face in his hands and forced her to look at him, though all was done in the tenderest of ways. "Mallory...please?"  
  
She tried to break free from his hold, but he was obviously determined to get a response of some sort out of her. And how he looked dejected, assuming she refused to speak because she did not trust him! If only he knew. If only he knew it was merely her way of saving him from heartbreak. If only he knew she simply did not want to see him hurt.  
  
When he had moved in to kiss her, memories from Valentine's Night all too quickly flashed through her mind. How Spot had deceived her, how he had gotten from her what Runner had allowed her time to give freely. It aggravated her, but more so saddened her.  
  
"Mallory, did someone hurt you?" Runner cocked his head to one side, still pressing to know what bothered the girl. Why was she suddenly being so guarded around him? Had he done something wrong? Was she angry with him for some reason? He mentally prayed that she would confide in him, but her expressions didn't alter at all. He was about to give up when quite out of nowhere, the words came from her mouth.  
  
"Remember when those boys gave us trouble?" she asked, her voice shaking the whole while. Not waiting for an answer, she went on. "You told me to go get Spot's help in Brooklyn. I didn't want to leave you, but I did because I knew I, myself, couldn't help you in any way. One of the guys had chased after me, but I lost him eventually." The reiteration trailed off there, and at first Runner thought she would relate a fact of her having been offended by some goon from Queens, but her story took off again.  
  
"I got to Brooklyn, and I was in a panic. I think half the guys there believed I was insane. I told Spot everything about what had happened, and how you desperately needed his help before those boys killed you." Pausing for a moment to fill her lungs with air, she remembered clearly what Spot had told her. "Your cousin didn't want me to return back into rain; he said I'd catch my death if I did. The problem arose when he didn't want to go out in the rain, either. Instead of heading off to Queens, himself, he sent a few of his newsboys to take care of the matter."  
  
Runner momentarily glanced away, hurt that Spot had not deemed his getting soaked to death a top priority to tend to. Was that why the Brooklyn leader hadn't arrived to Queens until late the next morning? Was it really rain that had scared him off?  
  
Mallory shook her head; there was no way she could continue with the account. What was she to say? How would she explain what had been racing through her head at the time? She shuddered, only catching Runner's attention and reminding him of the circumstances presently at hand. Mallory had a purpose in revealing him these things, and he wasn't about to let her forget them so easily.  
  
"So then what?"  
  
"Spot suggested I change into warmer clothes," she said quickly. She risked a glance his way and instantly regretted it. It was as if he weren't even registering the possibility yet! Perhaps he trusted her so much to believe she'd never do the thing she had done. "He took me to his room, and we started to talk..." A tear fell from her eyes. "Lucas, I'm...I can't do this, it's not...please don't make me..." She covered her face in her hands, willing them to hide her from him but knowing they never would. The truth would have to come out eventually.  
  
"Mallory..." Runner took her hands into his own and laced their fingers together with an encouraging smile. Then, leaning his forehead onto hers, he told her he'd always be someone she could trust, and that nothing she said would ever ruin what they had.  
  
For good reasons, Mallory knew that wouldn't be so within the next few minutes. However, she knew keeping from him would only severe their relations, so finding the last of her confidence she took a deep breath and finished what she had started.  
  
"He told me you were only using me, Lucas. Spot told me I meant nothing to you, and that I was no more than another award for you to flaunt. I know now that it's not true but back then I didn't. I believed him...and I'm so sorry. He...he was the only one I thought I could trust after that, and, well I needed to cry it all out. So he comforted me that night." A lump formed in her throat and when she spoke next, the sounds of a coming sob were evident in her voice. "But your cousin had other intentions while he held me. Knowing I was vulnerable, he started to kiss me..."  
  
By then, Runner had wrapped a supporting arm around her backside, yet when she admitted that last statement, she felt the arm tense. It ceased in rubbing the fabric of her blouse soothingly and was drawn back in offense. Runner's eyes were narrowed in confusion as he stepped away from her, betrayal written clearly in his reactions.  
  
"You let him kiss you?" He asked not because he needed verification, but because he couldn't accept the fact that she had done something of the like. Why would she turn her back on him? And with his very own cousin! His shock promptly evolved into anger, one that lashed out violently. "What else did you do with him, Mallory?" he snapped. "I can't believe this! Here I am wasting all my damn time wondering when the hell I'll get enough courage to ask you out, and you're busy screwing my cousin!"  
  
Mallory gasped at the words. Never had she heard the boy speak in such a low manner. She knew he had once been a newsie, but his demeanor was always respectful to her. Now he made her feel like a bordello woman being verbally abused by one of her displeased customers. "Lucas, please let me explain. Spot wanted to go further but..."  
  
"Damnit, Mallory! I don't want to hear it! What are you going to tell me? That you were too worried about little ol' me? That you had to at least wait a few more days before letting him knock you up?!" He combed his fingers through his hair furiously and kicked a nearby bookcase with all his might, dozens of hardback volumes scattering onto the floor when the piece of furniture toppled over.  
  
Mallory could no longer contain the tears. She had expected Runner to be maddened, but never would she have guessed he'd degrade her as he was doing now. He wouldn't even let her tell him the entirety of the tale! How dare he judge her without listening to all she had to say! She knew she couldn't be mad, but she could care less. At the moment, he was acting no better than Spot had. Why should she throw away her valuable time trying to make him comprehend something he didn't want to hear?  
  
She pushed herself off the desk and headed for the door, willing herself to not offer as much as a look towards Runner. Perhaps he just needed to let the frustration out of his system now. Perhaps he'd be easier to speak to later.  
  
Runner slammed his fist into a wall, and then spun around at the sound of his door opening. "Oh, leaving so soon?" he called after Mallory, disdain dripping from each word. "Probably off to see Spot, right? How many times is he going to bed you today?!" She closed the door with a sob and was out of sight. Runner snatched a sculpture from his desk and flung it at the door, the clay pieces rupturing into oblivion upon impact.  
  
"Damn you, Mallory," he hissed as he sagged his body against a wall. He slid down the surface until he was seated on the floor and buried his face into his knees.  
  
For the next hour, the room was filled with nothing but his cries.  
  
~*~*~*~*~ 


	24. When We're Sure We Love Eachother

DISCLAIMER: Basically, to put it in simple dictation, all the characters in Disney's Newsies belong to Disney. *SuRpRiSe* All the characters NOT in Disney's Newsies belong to me, with the exception of Angel-she belongs to herself. ^_^  
  
A.N. What is this, Chapter 24? W00t w00t! Only 6 more at the most! This story has been long in the making, huh? *thinks* I'm ready to finish it up, so here comes another chapter! SHOUT-OUTS:  
  
Cowgirl: Glad you're loving it, dollface. Here's more for ya!  
  
Sweetness: Yea, a lot *did* happen in that chapter. Hmmm, even more will happen in this one. Muahaha! Thanks so much for your feedback; it's greatly appreciated!  
  
Spider Chick: I'm writing more, I'm writing more! lol. Great to know you're enjoying the story, though. ^_^ Hope you like this new addition!  
  
Apollonia: Yea, Runner went insane, huh? Silly kid; maybe if he had listened to Mallory just a few seconds more, none of this would've happened. *groans* Jeeez, Runner! I'm not sure what will happen between him and Spot, but we'll save that for next chapter. Too much drama! *runs away* Thanks for your faithful reviews!  
  
CiCi: OoO, ya really think this could be a soap opera? That would be kind of cool! *thinks of the forthcoming fame* lol. Anywho, don't cry. *pats her head* And don't decapitate Runner's head, lol. Have you seen "The Three Musketeers"? The Disney version? This mean guy's going to cut off Dartagnan's head because he won't tell him the details about something, and D's like "NO!" The villain replies, "You don't want your head cut off?" and D answers "I happen to like where it is!" HAHAHA. *crickets chirp* okay, well it was funny for me! Here's another chapter!  
  
Random: You can't live without more, eh? Well we certainly wouldn't want your life to be deprived of anything so here's another chapter! ^_^ *Runner smirks* Ah yes, so I told Runner that he's in denial concerning his want to marry you. He gave me the weirdest look. *shakes head* Men...Anywho, here's more Race for you, my goil!  
  
Sita-Chan: Well, I'm most certainly glad that you've given Non-Slash fics a try, especially one written by myself. ^_^ It's always great receiving new reviewers and I'm glad you've been enjoying this read so far. I know it's a whopper of a story, but thanks for hanging in there. Enjoy this new chapter!  
  
Devonny: Hahaha. Your review was for chapter four but I can't even remember what happened way back then...*thinks* I'm assuming Mallory was still in her upper-class mode then, though, so I'll just say keep reading and enjoy the chapters that lay ahead.  
  
StupidChocolateGurl: w00t w00t! Thanks for your faithful reviews! ^_^ Yea, Mallory and Runner need to get it together. *groans* lol, have a good read this chapter around!  
  
Ember: OoO, a first time reviewer you claim? I could have sworn you've reviewed this story before. *thinks* Or was it another one that I had written. Or maybe you're just in my "Avenger" cast. lol. You people confuse me!!! *runs around room pulling out her hair* Okay...I'm good. Sorry, lol. Thanks for reviewing, though! I love reviews!  
  
*Just A Little Bet*  
  
Now with Runner back on his feet, Spot had finally returned to the swing of things in his life as a newsie. In his absence, Brooklyn had been under the leadership of his trusted friend Scapegoat, but after only a few days, the borough had become a territory of chaos. Spot solved the dilemma within minutes, giving those who had defied Scapegoat's orders a good soaking and warning the others who watched on that it'd mean their life if they ever questioned his decisions again.  
  
It hadn't taken too long for the Brooky's to settle back into routine, thereafter, for not even the most foolish among their brood would ever be so idiotic as to provoke Spot. And so seeing everything in order once again, their leader took to the streets, passing up the morning edition to instead organize his thoughts while the day was yet young.  
  
Runner had seemed guarded yesterday while dining at Tibby's for lunch. He had even snapped at Blink when the eyepatch-wearing boy had continuously pressed questions at him concerning his stay in the hospital. Spot didn't blame him, for he was about to tell Blink to lay off as well, but it was never in the younger Conlon's nature to lash out at anyone as he had done.  
  
'Maybe he's just trying to readjust,' Spot thought to himself. After all, Runner was a lighthearted spirit, one to never survive when confined to a single area. 'His parents keep 'im locked up alls the time, I'm surprised the kid hasn't run away again!' Spot had meant to ask his cousin what the problem was, but just as quickly as he had finished his sandwich the younger Conlon had disappeared out the diner without saying a word to anyone.  
  
Concluding that Runner was simply in one of his 'moods', Spot continued strolling down the walks, once stopping before crossing a street to allow a horse-carriage passage before proceeding on. 'One day I'll have a carriage of me own,' he vowed to himself. 'And people will know me no matter where I'se goes.' The soles of his boots were wearing out and soon, he'd have to be in the market for a new pair. But until he had the means by which to purchase it, he'd have to force his tired feet through the painful miles of walking he took up every day. He cast one last glance at the carriage, and turned around a corner to head towards Downtown.  
  
The number of crowds here were sparse; not quite radiating off the feeling of a ghost town but nearing it with incredible accuracy. Spot nodded at one of his boys selling papers in a far-off corner but never slackened in the speed of his stride. He returned his focus to the sights before him, his gaze affixed on a small edifice snuggled in between sky- scraping apartment buildings that made it pale in quality...but only in outward appearance.  
  
Spot grinned as he neared the structure. Josephine's Place. He hadn't tasted a well-made breakfast in weeks! Back at the hospital, Angel would bring him bagels and such when on break, but there was nothing like a meal cooked with love and the elderly Josephine always conducted her humble business as so.  
  
The Brooklyn leader swiped his hat off and allowed a passing breeze to comb through his sandy locks while he sighed in thought about how anxious he was to leave the Brooklyn lodging house. Not to say he didn't enjoy being leader, but sometimes the task was much too laborious, its trials far outweighing any pleasure he enjoyed from dictating people. He was ready for a change...was even old enough for one. Brooklyn's last leader had renounced his rank at age nineteen; Spot was months away from reaching that opportunity.  
  
He fixed his cap back on and glanced at his reflection in a bookstore's window while passing to make sure it looked fine. While his eyes examined his appearance, though, they happened to look past the reflection into the store itself where he saw a near-empty room filled with rows upon rows of books. Yet it wasn't the vast selection of written works that had caught his attention. He scolded himself beforehand for wanting to accomplish what he was about to do, and groaned aloud before opening the door to the shop and letting himself in.  
  
The place smelled of faded pages from an ancient volume and Spot crinkled his noise, unfamiliar to the scent. He greeted the young woman at the front desk and then traveled down an aisle of books in search of the person he had seen. When he reached the aisle's end, he cursed under his breath and turned around to try again, nearly jumping in surprise when he found himself eye-to-eye with the one he had been seeking.  
  
"What are youse doin' heah?" Snap asked bluntly, her eyes glimmering with newfound hatred for the Brooklyn leader.  
  
"What's it tah youse?" he threw back at her. "It's a free country, aint it? I can go wherever I please. And you shoah as hell aint gunna be one tah question it either."  
  
"Oh don't get me wrong. I wouldn't question it...cause I'se don't give a crap." She turned swiftly away from him, her silky hair gliding across her shoulders as she did so, and left to a section of books towards the back of the store.  
  
Spot glared after her. His pride wanted so very much to leave her right then and simply forget about the girl, but he inwardly knew it wouldn't be right. He knew it was partly his fault that all which had passed between him and Snap had crumbled down so violently. And if nothing was ever worked out, a resolution would never be reached. He clenched his fists to relieve stress and then relaxed his hands, trying to gain composure. A few seconds later, he followed after her.  
  
Snap was in the middle of reading a sonnet when she heard someone approaching her from behind. At first she had thought it the store clerk wanting to ask her if she was finding everything all right. She rolled her eyes and shifted her weight, thinking of a sharp reply to the inquiry. More probable was it that the clerk was merely apprehensive about a street-rat being in the store, on the verge of stealing an item.  
  
"Ya know," she said, her attention driven still to the book. "If I really wanted tah rob ya guys off, I woulda tied youse all up, hold a gun tah ya heads and threaten tah blow ya brains out if ya even breathed. Then I'se woulda taken whatever books suited me." Grinning at the bold statement, she turned around to see the woman's reaction, but her smile only dropped when she instead saw Spot before her.  
  
"Are ya stalkin' me?" she asked, slamming the book shut and shoving it back onto the shelf from which she had taken it.  
  
Spot leaned against the bookshelf and smirked. "Sorry tah disappoint ya, but I'se aint in the business of stalkin' people."  
  
"Disappointed?" She laughed sarcastically. "Sweety, I think the only thing disappointed is ya manhood." Her laugh grew authentic when his expression became displeased. Sometimes, she believed it too easy to blow his ego. She disregarded his presence and scanned the titles of the books in front of her, hunting for a good read.  
  
"So d'ya get that a lot?"  
  
She looked at him. "What?"  
  
"The scabs heah thinkin' youse is wanting tah steal off them?" He fixed his eyes back on her and watched how her feelings drastically changed. Just a moment earlier, she had stood proud and defiant, back straight and head held tall. But now her shoulders sagged the slightest degree and her eyes became distant. She faced him, then, and offered a sad smile.  
  
"Too often, people woik so hard concentratin' on ya appearance that they's forget ya a person inside just like them." No longer seeing a challenge in him, she let her guard down halfway and loosened up. "But I'se guessin' it's our fault really. Some newsies swindle money outta their customers, some don't. It's the ones that do, though, that give us a bad name. And we'se just have tah learn how tah live wid that."  
  
Spot nodded slowly. "Yea, but if youse don't ever try tah change things, then what's the point?" They stood there looking at each other, forgetting the surroundings around them, each asking themselves why their conversations had always been meaningless ones full of bitter rivalry when they were quite capable of discussing issues such as this.  
  
Snap was the first to break away from the stare, taken aback that she had given Spot a glimpse into her beliefs. Wasn't he a specimen of those who earned the 'bad names'? Why was he suddenly so concerned? She turned back to the books she had means to read and tried to rekindle her disgust for the Brooklyn leader. "Then again," she said, "why am I takin' lessons from youse? Ya just represent the lower-class bastard who treats goils like they's nothin'."  
  
Spot was shocked by the outburst but didn't show it in his calm facade. More than anything, he tried to control his urge to yell back at her. "Listen, I'se didn't come heah tah argue wid youse..."  
  
"Then leave!"  
  
"I'll leave when it pleases me, and not a damn minute sooner!" He stepped forward violently, but she was prepared for his offenses and slapped him hard before he could come closer. His eyes were blazing with fury now, but they couldn't penetrate her stone-cold look.  
  
"Get it through ya thick skull, Conlon. I aint gunna let youse push me 'round no more. The only reason I'm in Brooklyn tahday is 'cause I've been comin' tah this bookstore since I was little. As soon as I get what I'se came for, I'll be gone. Okay?" Tired of looking upon him, she faced a new shelf of books and tried to occupy her mind with sorting out their titles.  
  
"Ya aint even got a reason tah boss me like ya do ya newsies. I'se aint screwin' youse or ya ass of a friend no more, so lay off it, huh? The only reason I'se did it in the foist place was tah help out me family back home. It was a bet, ya high-and-mighty. But ya probably already familiar wid things like that, right?" She gave him a harsh glare. "So I'd appreciate it if ya stop thinkin' youse is so above everyone else, 'cause ya not."  
  
Spot despised the way she had gone about so meticulously laying his pride and honor on the altar to slice up and destroy with her bitterness. He would've spit on the ground and walked out curtly just to enrage her, but something dawned on him then. Something she had said during her rant perked his interest. 'The only reason I'se did it in the foist place was tah help out me family back home...' What had she meant by that?  
  
"Are youse tryin' tah get me tah apologize wid ya lil' guilt-trip story?"  
  
"Gimme a break, huh?" She pushed past him to see the collection of books that lay beyond. "Why would I'se care whether ya forgave me or not?"  
  
He followed behind her a yard or so, casually running his hand over the bindings of a volume he found, a collection of poems. He tipped the book back and let it fall into his hands, opening it and flipping through the pages of fine script. "So it's true?"  
  
"It's none of ya business."  
  
"So? I still wanna know. Ya wouldn't have brought it up if youse didn't want me asking 'bout it. So now I am. Is it true? Was ya family in trouble or somethin'?" As he waited for her reply, he breezed through a sonnet he had once learned about at St. John's when he had been a student at the private school. The words brought back old memories and he almost smiled.  
  
Snap watched this action and figured sharing the details of the event with him probably wouldn't do as much harm as she feared. Maybe it'd even alleviate matters between them. "Me father's aint exactly what someone would call a righteous man," she started, resting her back onto a wall once she had reached the end of the aisle. "Since I'se was five, he'd come home drunk like a damned fool and beat on me muddah and me like we'se was doity whores there for his pleasure. When me muddah left, I became the woman of the house...and tah him that meant more than just cooking 'is meals and cleanin' after 'im.  
  
"I did it only 'cause he said he'd go after me sistahs if I wasn't a 'good goil'. I hated very minute of it, hated him more and more by the day. It wasn't long 'fore he was sellin' me off tah his friends when our income wasn't rollin' in smoothly. Whenever a drug deal went wrong wid one of 'is customers, he'd just close the agreement offerin' me as payment. I ran away eventually, became one of A.J.'s newsies." She paused for a moment and thought upon how kind the Staten Island leader had been when welcoming her into his borough. A bit of a rough-edged personality, but deep inside he hid a warm heart and she had embraced his gentleness many times.  
  
"Anyways, me sistahs was still livin' in that shack of a home and I knew it'd be up tah me tah save 'em. But I'se didn't have no money tah send 'em tah a nice place, and I definitely didn't want them becomin' newsgoils. So I took up a bet from A.J. and once the pool of money was at a reasonable price, I came tah Manhattan tah do me job. Get youse and Jack tah fall for me, and then ruin ya friendship wid 'im. When I'se was done, I collected me money and was able tah send me sistahs tah St. John's monastery in Morningside Heights."  
  
Spot only nodded his head again, trying to digest all the information she had spilt in a mere five minutes. He hadn't expected her to relate such a tale to him, hadn't expected her to be one of the few in New York who ruined their lives just to save a loved one. But when she had done just that, he saw her in a new light then. He saw her as the unselfish person he had always wanted to be.  
  
Snap saw his thought process and crossed her arms. "So how's it feel tah be on the other side of the bet?"  
  
"Kinda weird," he answered with a shrug. "But that's how life woiks sometimes, right?"  
  
She smiled at him, and for the first time during the weeks she had known him, it was a genuine expression she didn't have to feign. What brightened the moment even better was when he smiled back at her in the same way.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Charles Hutton blew one of his mangy curls out his eyes and tried to obtain a better grip on Jumper's foreleg so that he could pry a miniature stone from the racing horse's iron shoe. "Ye blasted beast, stand still!" He repositioned himself onto his knees and rested Jumper's hoof onto his thigh. "Alright, lad. We almost got ya problem 'ere." Just as the end of the pick he was using touched the stone in question, the horse neighed nervously and leapt backwards, knocking Charles upside down.  
  
"Ye bloody fool! Don't ye know I was only tryin' to help youse?" The boy snatched the pick off the hay-covered ground and tossed it into a nearby pail. "When Mr. Webster asks me why there's still a rock in ya shoe, don't expect me to cover for ye, ya hear me?"  
  
"Charles?" a voice laughed from behind him. "Who are you talking to?"  
  
The boy spun around and smiled at the sight of Becca hand in hand with her newsboy friend Racetrack. He greeted her with a hug, for since Valentine's Day they had grown as closer friends, and shook hands with Race. "Well, I'll leave ya two alone," he grinned, giving Becca a knowing look.  
  
Becca shook her head and laughed again, thinking upon how much she had missed when she hadn't first accepted Charles' sense of humor. But he had proven a loyal companion, and she was thankful he had been patient with her. She plopped down onto a stack of hay tied up with white rope and looking up to Race, patted the empty area next to her.  
  
He took her up on the offer and joined her on the makeshift seat. "So where do we'se go from heah?" he whispered to her as he took her hand into his own and traced the velvety nature of her skin. The night she had come to him sobbing, Becca had stayed over at the lodging house until Race had walked her to her own apartment the next morning. Following the event, Webster gave her a few days off from work...affording her ample time to revaluate herself and grow stronger emotionally.  
  
"I'm not sure," she answered him in that southern twang he adored. "But I'm reckoning that whatever it is, we should take it slow, ya know?"  
  
"Yea, you're right." He stroked her carrot-colored tresses and smiled at her warmly. "When are ya gunna start woikin' heah again?"  
  
She pursed her lips in thought and mused over that. She wasn't sure whether she really did want to return to Sheepshead at all! It brought with it too many memories; too many reveries she refused to relive. She wanted a life that was a breath of fresh air every day. She wanted to be free and open with the ones closest to her, not boxed up and guarded.  
  
"Not any time soon...I just don't feel ready." She looked to him for his response and when he nodded, she couldn't help but grin. Race had been such a comfort to her from the time she had first met him. He always seemed to be there for her no matter what, sacrificing whatever was required to win her affection. And won it he had! She would fail miserably if ever she tried to suppress her feelings for him. Every single thing about him drove her crazy.  
  
The way his chocolate brown eyes made her melt when he gazed at her with a dreamy look. The way his smile was one that conveyed both fondness and mischief. The way he held her tight while she sat on his lap and whispered the loveliest of things into her ear under a star-filled sky. She couldn't imagine what life without him would entail! It was Race who had helped her confront and conquer her past. Where would she be without him?  
  
"You know, Race," she said softly, too shy to meet his eyes. "I've never felt like this before...the way I feel about you. I've never met someone who...who made me, like..."  
  
Race cut her off short when he turned her face towards him and gently pressed his lips against her own, deepening the kiss while he brought her closer to him. He felt her uneasiness, but chased it away by continuing to be gentle in his advances, softly rubbing her arms as he leaned her back. "I feel the same way," he answered with a sparkle in his eyes. "I've known alotta goils in me life, Becca, but the minute I saw youse..." He didn't finish, for he didn't want to ruin the confession with inadequate words.  
  
Instead, he brought his face down and kissed her again, small pecks until she parted her lips and let him venture forth into her mouth. Getting a rush from the opportunity, he propped himself up on his elbows and gazed down at her lovingly. "I'se don't want it tah be like this," he said simply.  
  
A bit disappointed but understanding the reasons why, Becca took the hand he offered and sat back up next to him, finding comfort in the hug he gave her. "Then when?" she whispered into his ear, before kissing his hair and resting her head onto his shoulder.  
  
Race thought for a moment and then interlocked his fingers with hers. "When we'se shoah we'se love each other." With tears in her eyes, she threw her arms around his neck and embraced him.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Review! ^_^ 


	25. You Didn't Sleep With Her?

DISCLAIMER: Basically, to put it in simple dictation, all the characters in Disney's Newsies belong to Disney. *SuRpRiSe* All the characters NOT in Disney's Newsies belong to me, with the exception of Angel-she belongs to herself. ^_^  
  
A.N. We're Going To Break 300 Reviews!!! Dear God!!! LoL! Thanks so much y'all! For everyone who's reviewed: YOU ROCK! 300, 300, 300...here we come!!! *Dewey plays the violin as Runner sports an Irish jig* WoW! Five more chapters! I'm a bit scared now; what if I'm not able to wrap it up? lol. I hope that won't be a problem! Thanks for all the reviews! SHOUT- OUTS:  
  
~Sweetness: Oh, don't worry. Spot will definitely find out about Runner's knowledge concerning Valentine's Night. *snickers* A sequel? Hmmm, I don't think this story's in the market for one just yet, but maybe later on (as in next summer, lol) it will be.  
  
~Rhapsody: You missed a chapter? Surprise, surprise. Runner was near sobbing when he found out his number one fan had abandoned him. Hahaha. Considering you like Runner so much, I feel it my duty to tell you he'll be the main character in my upcoming story "Eternal Avenger". ^_^ In any case, thanks for the reviews!  
  
~Deanie: Ay! Happy Belated Birthday! *Runner and the newsies sing their wishes and add in pelvic thrusts* Muahaha. So how old are youse now, m'goil? ^_^ Glad you're still tackling down this whopper of a story, lol. Thanks for the review; hope ya like this chapter!  
  
~Dimples: w00t w00t! You have to update "Opening Up" soon! I want to read more about Meg and Jack. And of course about me and the 'oh so sexy' Spot Conlon. Heehee. So write fast!! *pleads*  
  
~asp: Yea, well don't speak too soon. Who knows what other arguments might surface between Spot and Snap. *rolls eyes* lol. Never trust a Conlon, that's my motto. *Spot glares at her* What!?  
  
~Spider Chick: Don't worry; you're not getting repetitive. Haha. I like when people say they want more. It gives me more incentive to write quickly. So here's another chapter for you! I hope you enjoy it!  
  
~Meredith: Thanks for the review! Race and Becca ARE cute, aren't they? Heehee. *pinches their cheeks* I hope their relationship isn't coming off too sappy though, is it? Ah well, this story needs some loving with all the betrayal and arguments going around. ^_^  
  
~Chimes: New reviewers rock! W00t w00t! Thanks for taking the time out to read this massive thing, lol. I'm glad you were kept interested in the storyline throughout 24 chapters. Here's another chapter! Enjoy!  
  
~CiCi: Were you really crying? I love it when my stories make people cry. *thinks* I mean that in the most nicest way, though. Hahaha. It's just that it makes me think that maybe I made someone felt something...ah, I dunno. Have a good read this time around!  
  
~NinaC: Awww, this story touches your heart, you say? That's so sweet. *snuggles up with a terrified Runner* heehee, sorry. I just get really emotional when people say stuff like that about my stories. It makes me feel good. ^_^ So anyhow, here's an update! Hope you like it!  
  
~Inquisitive: Aww, thanks for the kind feedback! It always makes me feel good when someone says I'm a great writer, even though I still think I could use a lot of improvement, lol. But thanks so much and I hope you enjoy the rest of this story!  
  
~Imaginelet: Yea, Race wants to wait. I didn't want all the guys to be horn- dogs, lol. ^_^ And besides, it's a nice ordeal to uphold. Ah, Mallory and Runner. There's some major strife there. But hold in there, my faithful reviewer, perhaps they'll work past their differences one day. Heehee.  
  
~StupidChocolateGurl: Spot? Snap? *the two glare at each other* Hahaha, shhhh, don't speak too soon! They still have a lot of tangles to work out. But maybe they will get together in the end after all. *shrugs* Who knows? But thanks so much for all the reviews!  
  
~*Just A Little Bet*~  
  
Angel tiredly walked down the halls of the floor making up the hospital's third story and wished she had taken up the head pediatrician's offer on a short break from her internship. Checking in countless patients a day, organizing files in a room full of cabinets, and seeing her share of fractured bones, concussions, and bloody accidents wasn't necessarily her idea of having a good time. She knew that if she proceeded to surround herself with such catastrophe, she would only grow indifferent in time.  
  
'Oh, just another coma,' she imagined herself saying one day. 'Ah, another failed childbirth? What a shame!' She shuddered at the mere notion. She didn't want to become apathetic as many of the doctors around her had become. There was still room for tears whenever a family was mourning the loss of a loved one; there was still room for condolences when a parent was worried over their ill-stricken child.  
  
Perhaps she would take Dr. Ramsey up on that offer, after all. She rubbed her eyes in efforts to rid them of their fatigue and hurried off to relieve her co-workers from night-duty. She wasn't late, but it was always her preference to arrive to her assigned job ten minutes before her shift began. If her timing was correct, she only had four minutes to stay true to that habit.  
  
She greeted the west wing's janitor with a warm smile, her eyes apologizing for streaking the floors he had just mopped. He only laughed lightly and waved her on her way. Angel quickened her leisurely pace into a minor jog afterwards and hoped she'd be the first on her midnight staff to show up. As she was passing a corner, however, someone grasped her arms tightly behind her back, one hand smacking over her mouth, and pulled the girl into a corner where the overhead lamp had dimmed out.  
  
Angel struggled with all her strength, managing to free an arm and elbow her violator in the gut. When his grip on her loosened, she spun around to face him with intentions to slam a fist into his jaw, but when she saw who the young man was, she gasped. "Blink!? What the hell are you trying to pull off??"  
  
Wrapping his arms around his lower stomach, Blink moaned in pain and rested his body against a wall in support. "I see those self-defense classes have paid off."  
  
"Are you...are you okay?" She reached out to him but he flinched back and shot her a look of warning. She rolled her eyes, in turn, and gave him a sarcastic smile. "Well, maybe you shouldn't be parading in hospital hallways after hours, hmm?"  
  
"I came tah see youse," he said simply, as if that made right his trespass.  
  
Angel sighed. "Blink, we're not right for each other. I mean, the relationship was great and all, but..." He put two fingers to her lips to silence her but she wrenched her head away with a glare. She had had enough of his excuses; what ridiculous apologies would his conniving mind make up now? She crossed her arms and waited with pursed lips.  
  
"Angel, please. I know I'se hasn't exactly been the poifect boyfriend. Tah be honest with meself, I'd say I wasn't much a boyfriend at all. I've cheated on ya and lied tah ya, and only came tah visit youse when it suited me." Without his useless patch, she was able to see both his eyes...their blue irises burdened with sadness and pain. "I'm sorry, goil. Ya gotta believe me."  
  
"No," she righted him, "I don't have to believe any crap ya throw my way. For five months you had me thinking you were the greatest thing to come into my life. But guess what? I grew up. I got me a nice job now, a new set of friends, and a real life. And I'm not going to let you ruin that all again by breaking my heart." Her gaze might as well should've been carved from stone, for it would never soften. She turned away from him, but he snatched her wrist and pulled her back pleadingly.  
  
"Gimme another chance! We'll go slow this time, real slow! C'mon, all I'm askin' for is a relationship. Aside from sleepin' together and kissin' ya and all that other stuff I took advantage of when we'se was somethin'. It aint what I'm thinking 'bout now. I only want tah be with youse." He gently grabbed her hands, raised them to his lips, and planted a kiss on the palm of each never once taking his eyes off hers. "Please, Angel? Please don't throw away what we had."  
  
She couldn't detect a single fiber of dishonesty in him. He was being truthful and open with her, attributes she had never known when dating him. But could she take him up on his word? Would he do his best to remain loyal, or was this only another front he was infamous for putting on when dealing with the ladies. Her temper left, a sense of uncertainty lingered behind. "I don't know...maybe we should just talk for now."  
  
"Talkin' is fine with me." His smile was a bright one. "I'm so sorry, though, that I'se threw away all we had for some short-lived fun. Now lookin' back on it, it wasn't woith it. Youse gots class, goil and you desoived better than me." He squeezed his fingers to show his meaning behind the following words. "But I'm tryin' real hard tah be the man ya need me tah be, and I hope we'se can woik past everything eventually."  
  
She nodded with a smile. "We'll see what happens." Suddenly remembering her job, she cursed under her breath then and snatched her hands back, bringing one to her forehead sharply to scold her for her forgetfulness. "Oh great! I was s'pose to report to the desk by now!"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Ugh! Now damned Jennifer will probably get 'intern of the week'! I can't believe this!" She tangled her fingers with her hair in frustration and marched off muttering things under her breath. Blink caught up with her seconds later and threw her a confused look. "I'm late, the hospital staff doesn't smile upon stuff like that," she said simply.  
  
He bobbed his head in understanding, feeling slightly uncomfortable. "I'm sorry if I, uh...if I made ya lose track of the time...."  
  
"No you're not," she shot back at him.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
She stopped in her tracks and gave him a playful smirk. "You aren't the least bit sorry about any of this. As a matter of fact, when you leave this place, you'll probably be clicking your heels all the way back to the lodging house." She arched an eyebrow and challenged him to refute her statement.  
  
He backed her up against a wall and planted a hand on either side of her shoulders, grinning down at her. "Now why would ya say somethin' like that, Meow? I'se always lookin' out fer ya best interest."  
  
"Oh, maybe because of this..." she grabbed his face in her hands and brought his lips to her in a hard kiss. She knew she probably shouldn't be toying with his feelings as so, but she had every good reason to believe she'd eventually forgive him, let him chase her some more, and then revive the relationship. Besides, she was pretty late, and she could only imagine the look on her supervisor's face when Angel explained to her exactly what had kept her busy.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
"Father, I just received a telegram from your doctor." Mallory walked into her father's room holding a piece of paper from which she was reading. "He says that you won't be needing the assistance of a home-bound nurse any longer. I, I don't understand." She furrowed her forehead in confusion and looked to him where he lay upon his bed for answers.  
  
Mr. Carter smiled at his daughter, trying to contain some inward excitement. "Mallory, dear. The doctors were somewhat wrong in their diagnosis of my condition."  
  
The girl sat down onto a rocking chair across from him and leaned forward. "What are you talking about?"  
  
"Darling, when the electrician came over the other day to fix the sitting room's lighting while you were at school, he noticed a leakage from one of the vents in the hallway. He saw to the nature of the problem and discovered that fungus was growing within the inner-linings of our ceiling, the same kind of fungi that attach to the lung complexes in our body to inhibit normal breathing.  
  
"Surely you remember that when we first moved into this house, my bronchitis wasn't as bad as it has been these past few weeks. Now we know why! Over the years, the fungus was growing and drastically affecting my health!"  
  
Mallory wasn't quick to accept the explanation. After all, her father had suffered from terrible conditions of bronchitis before. And how could the doctors be wrong in their diagnosis? "Father...are you absolutely sure? I mean, cleaning out all that fungus might've just made our air cleaner. But how can you say you're cured of all your illnesses now?"  
  
Mr. Carter wouldn't let her pessimism dampen his spirits. He continued to relate the details just as happily as when he had first begun. "You aren't susceptible to the fungus, Mallory. Your lungs don't have asthmatic tendencies. Mine do. And I'm not saying I'm 100 percent healthy from now on, only that my bronchitis isn't as bad as we had originally thought.  
  
"The electrician suggested I hire a lawyer and file a lawsuit against this building's owner for not keeping up with sanitation and general cleaning. If we get the other tenants involved, imagine what a force we'd be in that court against one man!" His eyes grew wide with excitement and he sat up straighter against his bed's headboard. "If we win the claim, your college tuition would be paid in full, I'd be able to obtain whatever job pleased me...we could even afford a new house!"  
  
"Father, that all sounds quite nice, but..."  
  
"You must have faith," the man told her. "Look, our prayers have pulled me through and we're on the verge of reeling in large amounts of money! I think this calls for a celebration!"  
  
Mallory had never seen her father so lively. The past few weeks he always appeared to be unwillingly to see another day, black patches of tiredness growing under his eyes and his body weakening in strength. But now his face was brighter than ever as he began to plot all the ways he would like to spend the money he believed would soon be theirs. He let out a light cough and, clearing his throat, asked the girl if she would be so kind as to make him a cup of tea. "Our neighbors brought me a new Oriental mixture," he told her. "I've placed the packets in the top cabinet. Make a cup for yourself if you'd like to try it."  
  
She nodded her head and left the room in a daze. Could this really be happening? She swore; if it wasn't one thing nagging at her, it was another. When things were going great between herself and Runner...she had her father to worry over. And now that Mr. Carter apparently seemed to be able to tend to himself these days, matters had reversed and Runner was the one her concern was on.  
  
As she walked into the kitchen, she reached down to pet Daisy on the head as the cocker spaniel puppy laid asleep on a cushion, before going on to make her father's tea.  
  
"Mallory, darling," her father called out to her from his room. "Perhaps we should invite some friends over, to bring cheers to my health! You may even invite the cousins; Spot and Lucas were their names? I haven't seen them in quite a while. How's the younger one doing? Still in the hospital?"  
  
"No, he was released," she called back while filling a kettle with water. He rambled on about setting a date for a party, but Mallory's mind had already escaped his grasp. How she wished that Lucas was here, his arms around her...giving her the kiss they had yet to finish...  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Runner bit down hard on the cigarette in his mouth, as if he willed the tobacco enclosed within to drain from the paper onto his tongue like poisonous soot. He had forgotten how addictive the nicotine could be. He licked the inside frame of the cigarette, his moral void longing for another inhale, his mind coiling away at the thought. He was never one to deny the former.  
  
With a smirk, he greeted his cousin with a nod. Spot was leaning against a pillar of the docks, his arm nonchalantly gripping the structure and his wolf-like eyes gazing out at his 'kingdom' with a silver glow. He pushed himself off the pillar upon seeing Runner and stood to his feet in a proud stance, one of glory and vanity.  
  
"Youse back into smokin', huh?" The tone by which he had uttered the words made it a blatant statement, rather than a question.  
  
Runner only gave him a shrug in reply. "Old habits die hard." Spot fell into step beside him and the two walked the lengths of the docks, which were by now vacant of any newsboys as it was hours past dusk. The younger Conlon took one last drag on his cigarette before tossing it to the ground carelessly and crushing its form with the heel of his boot. Suited with the destruction, he shoved his hands down the pockets of his pants and listened to the churning waters below him. Their monotonous melody almost carried him away to a dreamland, but he soon awoke and only found himself staring out to an endless sheet of obsidian, so dark were their waves.  
  
"So, how's life treatin' ya kid?" Seeing his cousin's lack of banter made Spot uneasy for the briefest moment. What bothered the younger so?  
  
Runner let out a small sigh, one that sounded as if it should have escaped the lips of a young boy...a boy carefree and infantile, who had never known false love, or betrayal. He battled with himself for half a second, wondering whether he should bring the matter up or simply forget it. His mouth was quicker than his musings. "Why'd ya do it, Spot?"  
  
The elder turned to look at him. "Do what?"  
  
"Mallory came to see me in my room the other day," Runner replied in his polished rich accent. "To catch up on things...but more so to confess something to me." His roughened drawl inflamed. "Damnit, Spot! Why'd ya do it? Ya knew as much as the next guy that I'se cared 'bout 'er! Ya me cousin, why would ya do somethin' like that? For a damn bet? Would ya really betray me for a damn bet?!"  
  
Spot's expression mirrored his admission of guilt, something he rarely showed. "Lucas, look. I'm sorry, alright...?"  
  
"No! It's not alright! Alright is not layin' a finger on 'er! Alright is stayin' a hundred yards from 'er at all times! But youse bein' sorry?! That's not alright!"  
  
It had taken every ounce of his patience to stifle a violent act until now, but Spot could no longer hold his temper in check. He turned on the boy, seizing Runner's shirt collar and slamming him into a pier upon which he held him down in a death grip. "Don't think for one minute that youse can march over heah and start preachin' tah me, ya understand that? I'll be me own judge of what's right and wrong. If youse can't deal with that, go dig a hole and throw yaself in it."  
  
When he let him go, Runner was so startled by the attack that he nearly stumbled when he gained his freedom. Stabilizing his footing, he glared at Spot and fixed out the wrinkles in his shirt with near-shaking hands. "I see nothing's changed in ya," he spat out. "Still the arrogant Brooklyn jackass that don't give a damn when he hoits someone."  
  
"Ya know what, Runnah? Cut the crap; ya makin' it sound like me and Mallory actually did somethin' promiscuous."  
  
"That's a big woid, there, Spotty. Where'd ya get it from, the papes?" He dodged away in time to miss Spot's lunge, but he wasn't quick enough to evade the leader's backhand, which sent him tripping onto the hardwood of the docks. His head throbbed from the blow, but he wouldn't pronounce his pain with a wince. Instead, he climbed to his feet and continued their stare-down. "Nothin' promiscuous, then, huh? I guess to reach that stage, you'd have to not only steal ya cousin's goil and sleep with 'er, but also get 'er pregnant and then run off with the goil's muddah."  
  
Spot rolled his eyes at the detailed elaboration. Where did the kid derive his imagination from? "I guess we'll never find out. I don't really intend on sleepin' with Mallory...and well, her muddah's dead, remember? So much for that trip."  
  
"Ya mean ya don't intend on sleepin with 'er AGAIN," the other corrected.  
  
"If that's what I meant, I would've said it."  
  
Runner straightened up from his fighting stance, his eyes flickering with skepticism. "Is this some kinda joke?"  
  
Spot shrugged. "I guess so, cause anyone should know that youse can't beat me in a fight if ya life depended on it." The Brooklyn leader started for his cousin again, but stopped short when Runner made no bodily signs of attempting a defense. Instead, the younger Conlon backed away shaking his head ever so slightly, disbelief written all over his face. "What's the problem now, youse in denial?"  
  
"Ya didn't...sleep with 'er?"  
  
Spot groaned. "How may times is we'se gunna go over this?"  
  
They had by now reached the edifice that was the Brooklyn lodging house and were apparently intending on entering the building. Spot followed closely behind a fuming Runner, the boy's shoulders tense and his fists clenched tightly. For the life of him, Spot had yet to figure out what the hell was the kid's problem. Up ahead, a light post shone its rays onto the path before them, making the newsboys' welcome sign of clearer appearance as they neared.  
  
When they were within ample distance of the lodge, Runner brought back an arm and sent a blow into the glass pane of a window, not even flinching as the crystal shards embedded themselves into his skin, crimson bands streaming down his hand. The loud shattering caused Spot to jump in surprise; it also alarmed several of the Brooklynites within the building and they flooded out onto the walks within seconds. Confusion shrouded them when they found Spot Conlon wrapping his very own shirt around Runner's blood-soaked fingers, the younger of the two highly agitated, though his anger seemed to be directed elsewhere.  
  
Scapegoat stepped forward hesitantly and cleared his throat for attention. "Uhm...everything, uh, okay?"  
  
"Gimme some gauze from Mistah Scaparti's first aid cabinet, Scape? And some water too. And make it quick." The newsie turned on his heels at the stern order and hurried off to retrieve the items in question. Spot glanced at the others gathered around and groaned. Why hadn't he taught his Brooky's that a problem didn't belong to them if they weren't directly involved? He snapped at them. "Clear out, all a' youse. 'Less ya want a nice shinah of ya own, get back inside!"  
  
He was left alone with Runner in record timing. When he knew for sure this was so, he put pressure on the boy's hand to prevent any further blood loss and looked at him in a chastising manner. "Real smart," he said with disdain. "Ya years in Brooklyn shoulda taught ya that self-infliction aint the key. Ya got somethin' ya wanna brawl over, ya take it out with another kid. Though, seein' how I'se was ya only competition, I don't blame ya for cowering away." He smirked in that haughty way of his but the younger only frowned.  
  
"Ya didn't sleep with 'er...?"  
  
Spot looked at him, thoroughly exhausted by the repetitive question. Hadn't they just gone over that? And why was he acting like such a dense fool? If Mallory had related the story to him, why was it coming as such a surprise that they hadn't slept together? "I guess it's hard tah believe a doll passed up a chance with me, right?" He laid a reassuring hand on the boy's shoulder and grinned. "I give ya credit, Runnah. The goil's got spirit, and it looks like youse is the one that caught 'er heart."  
  
Runner shook his head, not bothering to hold back the tears that now graced his face in their salty, crystalline forms. "I broke up with 'er," he managed to say. "She was tellin' me what happened 'tween youse but I jumped tah conclusions 'fore she could finish and I figured ya guys had gone all the way. So I ended it." No longer feeling worthy to live, he purposely collapsed onto himself, almost bringing Spot down with him.  
  
"Runnah, what are ya, stupid?" Spot shook his head, unable to conceive the fact that Runner had lost everything in a single assumption. He walked off a yard or so, took hold of a crate nestled against the lodge's outside wall, and dragged it back beside Runner where he sat onto it and clasped his hands before him in thought. "Ya know...if ya just apologize tah 'er, I'm shoah she'll forgive ya."  
  
"Ya kiddin' me? Spot, I cursed the goil out! I've never even once insulted 'er about anything, and there I was...cursin' 'er out like she was some goon takin' over Brooklyn." He brushed his fingers through his hair and left them at the back of his head to brace himself. "I wouldn't blame 'er if she didn't ever wanna see me again."  
  
"Ya want me tah talk tah 'er?"  
  
Runner gave him a sharp look. "I think youse has involved yaself enough as it is."  
  
"Sorry I asked," the elder replied, holding his hands up in surrendering fashion. Before continuing on, he cracked his knuckles and stretched out the aches in his arms. "Here's a thought. Forget 'bout ya dad's curfews and stay in Brooklyn for as long as ya like, tah sort things through kinda. When ya figure out what ya wanna do...well, go for it."  
  
"Ya think she'll take me back?"  
  
Spot playfully shoved him to the side, careful not to disturb the bruised up hand that lay motionless on Runner's lap. "Youse is a Conlon, how can she not take ya back?" The younger couldn't help but grin back. "Oh, and Lucas? I'm really sorry..." he added in as low a volume as was obtainable.  
  
Runner's eyes fell onto his cut hand, his body finally feeling the pain of his poor decision. "Ah, don't worry 'bout it. Ya startin' tah sound like a sappy bastard and it don't suit ya." When he looked up at the elder, his smirk was mischievous; Spot smacked him upside the head and they shared a much needed laugh.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Please Review. ^_^ 


	26. Vulnerability

DISCLAIMER: Basically, to put it in simple dictation, all the characters in Disney's Newsies belong to Disney. *SuRpRiSe* All the characters NOT in Disney's Newsies belong to me, with the exception of Angel-she belongs to herself. ^_^  
  
A.N. Wow, there's a lot of people reading this story! W00t w00t! We broke 300, we broke 300!!! *tackles down Runner in a hug* Thanks so much EVERYONE! Shout-outs to: Lanen1, Chimes1, Random, Angel27, tiger17, imaginelet, sweetgal1, Dimples1, Chewy2, Missus Estes, g0ne-f0reveR, Deanie, asp, snipah higgins, Spider Chick, CiCi, Drama-Queen, Apollonia2, Rhapsody4, Tree, Lyra Torg, and NicNac!!! THANK YOU, FRIENDS! ^_^  
  
Uhm...this chapter may seem a bit short I suppose, but I really wanted to get back into the swing of things; maybe it'd help in finishing this story once and for all. *grins* So here I present to you: Chapter 26!!  
  
-Brief Recap-: After a brief conflict in a bookstore over the intentions behind their hatred, Spot and Snap have finally reached a sort of truce between each other and perhaps are traversing the road to friendship. We last left Becca and Race happy as ever, agreeing to 'wait' until they were sure of their love before giving themselves to each other. Though a bit hesitant to forgive him, Angel accepts Blink's apology for not being the boyfriend he should have been, and the couple is starting their relationship anew. Mallory no longer has to worry over her father, for Mr. Carter's bronchitis has been traced to the growth of fungus in the ventilation units of the house, and lastly, Runner has finally learned from Spot that the Brooklyn leader and Mallory did *not* sleep together, as Runner had originally assumed. And now without further ado...  
  
~*Just A Little Bet*~  
  
~*~*~*~*~ Runner's day of selling papers had been cut short by his own lack of self-pride. He despised the fact that time away from his once-hobby had formed him into a wretched hawker who couldn't peddle a morning edition if his very life depended on it. Another reason why he didn't care much for the richy life he was living up back at Morningside. While confined to his ballroom of a dormitory scribbling things in Hebrew and Latin, here were boys-most younger than him-taking part in the real life, actually working to see another tomorrow...and never once did they complain.  
  
How he wished that some God-sent misfortune would rain down upon the aristocracy and force them all to walk in a lower class ruffian's shoes just for one day. He would bet his life they wouldn't last a minute. Discarding his papers into the waters under the docks, he let out an aggravated sigh and shuffled his way into the Brooklyn lodging house. If his reasoning was correct, the building would currently be vacant, for Brooky's tended to be superior newsboys and would spend hours working the crowds and earning good money.  
  
"As if I couldn't feel any more miserable," he muttered to himself while passing through the front doorway of the lodge. "I'm a pitiful fighter...Spot has to defend me 24/7 because our worst enemies hate my guts...I can't even earn a dime for some lousy papers...and I'm a damn jackass to top it off!"  
  
He intentionally collapsed onto the floor then, as he was growing accustomed to doing, and laid sprawled out across the hardwood like a rag doll tossed aside for later amusement. "I hate my life..." Though he knew he was sounding much like the angst-filled suicidal cases that often came to the monastery seeking guidance, he couldn't care less, for he was only being honest. He simply couldn't quite hold everything together these days. His father was dictating his life, his teachers thought too highly of him, his friends thought he was something he really was not, and Spot kept insisting that he do something about it all yet Runner kept denying himself, as if he had come to believe that such skill never had been in his power.  
  
"What does he want me to do anyhow?" The young Conlon asked of the walls about him. "Yea, he tells me to stand up to my father, but it's easier said than done. What am I suppose to do? Curse him out? Tell him off and then give him more incentive to kick me out the place?" He lifted his head an inch off the ground only to slam it back down and groan. "Yeeea right."  
  
Tired by his childish actions, he climbed to his feet and made his way up the stairs dejectedly, letting his feet rest on each step during the ascent. His hand slid along the rusted railing and he almost had the feeling of time being suspended, as if his upward mount would last a lifetime. Finally, though, he reached the second story and leaned his back against a wall to recover from the climb. It hadn't tired him...only had made him dizzy for some reason.  
  
"Damn, Lucas," he belittled himself, "you're turning into a friggin' pansy now. Ya gotta get a hold of yourself." He exhaled a deep breath of air and adjusted his bowler hat upon his head with accurate precision. His head was swelling, however, and he couldn't ignore that. He brought a hand up to massage his temples but it only seemed to exacerbate the pain and he moaned in response to the hurt. Maybe he wasn't bettering in health after all...  
  
And then just as quickly, the pain left. Runner rolled his eyes at the confusion of it all and cursed Queens under his breath, swearing he'd soak the bastard that put him in the hospital to a bloody pulp. He pushed himself off the wall and headed down the corridor to Spot's room, where he had been lodging for the past few days. "Heh, I wonder if father's sent out a search crew yet...or if he's even noticed I'm gone..."  
  
His deliberation was interrupted when someone's soft cries traveled to his ears and perked his attention. Begot by his curiosity, he followed the trace of the noise to the girls' bunkroom where the entrance door was slightly cracked open. Runner pursed his lips, unsure of whether he should intrude or not, but in the end he figured it best simply to make sure all was right.  
  
The bunkroom was rather dark even though it was early afternoon, with all the thick-draped curtains pulled closed. Runner allowed his eyes to adjust to the change in lighting and then saw a figure hunched over by the ledge of a windowsill, a girl around his age kneeling with her face buried in her hands. With a soft pure voice, words spilled from her mouth in a sweet string of melody, but the song's virtue was occasionally shattered by her sobs.  
  
Runner cocked his head to one side and in efforts to not embarrass the girl, cleared his throat to announce his presence. The girl did not hear him. He walked farther into the room on cat's feet, his steps light ones, trying ever hard to not awaken the creaking proclivities of the wood below him. When he was a reasonable distance from the girl, he studied her backside for a moment and finally recognized her.  
  
"Rhapsody..." he whispered.  
  
The girl called as so slowly turned around to face her visitor. Her curly brown locks were pulled back into a French braided pigtail, her cheeks smeared with tear-stains and her eyes so reddened she appeared to be a grieving widow. "Heya Runner," she managed to say with a forced smile, but a fresh new batch of tears fell during the greeting and she turned away from him to hide her shame.  
  
Runner closed the distance between them and kneeled down next to her, pained to see such a close friend in a like condition. "Rhap, what's wrong?" His forehead was furrowed in concerned and he laid a hand on her shoulder to show his support. "Did, did something happen?"  
  
In reply, the girl nodded and once again faced him. She wiped at her dampened cheeks with the sleeve of her sweater and tried to gather her bearings. She wasn't ever the type to spill her feelings to anyone, and she wasn't necessarily in any mood to reiterate the cause of her current depression, but Runner was a close friend and if anyone could make her feel a hundredfold better, it would be him.  
  
She calmed herself with a few easing breaths and swallowed back the lump in her throat. "Remember...remember that upper-class boy I was always with? James Beckoner?" The other nodded and so she continued. "Last week was our one year anniversary," she smiled sadly. "It was wonderful. He took me to this five-star restaurant...I felt like a princess, ya know? The night was just so beautiful...everything was perfect; I couldn't imagine a more perfect day."  
  
She scooted closer to her friend and beheld his gaze for a moment, needing his strength to go on. Runner's eyes were glistening and she extracted the assurance her heart required to finish the tale. "Gosh, ya know how much I cared about him! A whole year, Runner! Can you imagine that? A whole year!" He draped an arm around her neck and she comfortably rested her head onto his shoulders, as if he were an elder fending off some nightmare for her. "Yesterday, I went to his house for a banquet his parents were holding. James is graduating from college this spring, so they went all out for the celebration. All his high class friends were there too...I kinda felt out of place naturally.  
  
"The night rolled on by smoothly; I had a pretty good time, but I kept noticing that James was acting a bit strange. I asked him about it when we were alone...I wish I hadn't. You know what he told me? That now that he was out of college, he needed to settle down with a real woman, someone from his class who would 'seal the deal' on his social ranks. Just like that!"  
  
She narrowed her eyes in indignation, angry tears escaping through the half-opened slits. "I couldn't even believe the words he was speaking! I was shocked! I stood there like a complete idiot, shaking my head, asking him whether this was some kind of joke. How could someone end a year-long relationship so...so..."  
  
"So arrogantly," Runner finished for her, subconsciously rubbing her shoulders to alleviate her humiliation. "The kid's a jackass is all. If I was youse, I'da socked him a good one right in the eye. I'm sure no high- class goil would want him then."  
  
Rhapsody laughed lightly, but sighed nonetheless. "I just can't believe it, ya know? I mean...a year! We had been together for a year! And everything just seemed so magical when I was with him. He always knew the right things to say, and he was always such a gentleman with me. I still can't believe this even happened! It's like some...it's like a nightmare. I wish things would go back to the way they were."  
  
"Well, some things aren't meant to go back to the way they were, Rhap. That's just the way the world woiks." He hugged her close and smiled down at her, sitting back on his heels to be more comfortable. "Believe me, you could do much better than that hoity-toity. Ya need to move on, doll. Forget about 'im and find someone else who'll treat ya like the lady ya are."  
  
"That's the thing, though," she replied, "I don't want to move on! I loved him, Runner! I loved him. Maybe I sound like a fool, or maybe I'm just naïve, but I truly feel like things will work out between me and him. Maybe he was having a hard day and took it out on me, I don't know." Her shoulders sagged and she sat upright, pulling away from Runner's grasp. Her arguments had merit...didn't they? She shook her head. Of course they did! Countless times had James expressed his love for her; he couldn't possibly have meant all the horrible things he had said to her last night.  
  
Runner wanted to take the blindfold off her eyes and allow her to see the situation as it truly was. Rhapsody was a beautiful young woman with an inspiring personality; on top of that she was a great friend. He couldn't bear to see her suffer like this. "Look, Rhap. I hate to be the one to tell you this, but I really don't think James was kidding when he said he wanted to end the relationship. He was using ya, goil! Can't ya see it? Probably not yet socially accepted, he figured he'd go out with the foist sweet face he came across, and now that he's moving up in the woild, he's ditching ya. I've seen it done a number of times. The guys a joik; ya gotta forget about him!"  
  
"How can you say that about him? You barely even know him, yet here you are going on about the type of guy he is and telling me his motives behind going out with me. He loved me, Runner! Can't you understand that? I mean, you make it sound as if love can't exist between two people of different classes! Do you think I'm not good enough for a rich man?"  
  
"Ya know damn well that's not what I'm saying!" His gentle gaze became a glare and he rose back onto his knees to stare her down. "All I'm saying is that you're wasting time if you think he's going to march into this place and shower you with apologies."  
  
She gave him an incredulous look. Who did he think he was! How dare he feign an apologetic mode only to lash out at her in her most vulnerable state. Did he enjoy piercing her heart with pessimism and stone-cold possibilities? "Wasting my time, huh? You're wrong! Maybe I'm just wasting my time talking to a bastard like you!"  
  
Angered by her words, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer to him so that their noses were nearly touching. Their current derision towards each other was electrifying, like a radiating current that pulled them together. "Ya wanna spend ya life in a daydream, it's fine with me," he hissed at her. "But don't ridicule me for slapping reality into your face. If anything, you should just grow up."  
  
"Oh, look who's talking," she countered him. "You couldn't survive a day in Queens if it weren't for your cousin. You know more than anyone else that you would've died if Spot hadn't stepped in for you. Maybe you should take your own advice, Runner. Maybe I'm not the only one in this room who needs to grow up."  
  
He scowled at her, but knew she was absolutely right in that issue. He was dead wrong for accusing her of a fault he too possessed. Silent moments passed between them before he shook his head, his features smoothing out. "I'm sorry..." he said softly, loosening his grip on her wrist. "My temper's a bit, uh, a bit more uncontrollable than usual."  
  
She only nodded, unsure of how to answer him. His outbreak had been a surprise, that much was true. She hadn't seen Runner lose his temper since...actually, she had never witnessed such a time at all! Watching as he passed a hand through his hair, she wondered what was stressing him out as of late. "Spot told us you'd be staying here for a while," she said, wanting so much to break the conversational hiatus. "Is everything okay back at your home?"  
  
"Never been better," he said quickly, not wanting to dwell on his troubles.  
  
"You lie."  
  
He looked up at her, a bit offended by the words. "What?"  
  
"You lie." She shrugged, as if her comment was the most natural thing in the world. Seeing his confusion, though, she knew she'd have to explain. She faced him eye to eye and smiled warmly. "Runner, we've known each other for a long while now, and I know when you're hiding something. I see it in your eyes...you're heartbroken."  
  
He tried to cover his shock with an urbane front, but failed pathetically. "Uh, well y-you're wrong. I'm not, I'm not heartbroken!" He tried to laugh. "That's ridiculous! I, uh, I don't..." He shook his head. "I'm not heartbroken."  
  
"Gosh, Runner, just admit it!"  
  
He wouldn't stop shaking his head. "There's nothing to admit! I'm not!"  
  
She playfully pushed him aside and grinned. "Are too!"  
  
"Am not!"  
  
"Are too!"  
  
His lips upturning into a smirk, he growled at her stubbornness and tackled her down to the floor gently, supporting the back of her head with his hand so that she wouldn't feel the impact of their fall as he came down atop her. Pinning her down with the utmost victory, he straddled her and lifted his nose into the air haughtily. "Ha! I'm NOT heartbroken!"  
  
She rolled her eyes but laughed anyhow. "It's always a battle with you, huh?"  
  
"Damn straight," he replied with a grin. As he looked down at her, he couldn't help but admit to her close resemblance to Mallory, with her brown tresses and chocolate eyes...it made his stomach turn. The last thing he needed now was to be reminded of the heartbreak he was so fervently trying to deny. "Ya gotta forget about James," he whispered to the girl, leaning closer to her to stress his seriousness. "Ya gotta move on."  
  
"Then...help me," she whispered back. She caressed one of his cheeks with her hand and guided his face downwards where their lips anxiously waited to join together. Her heart was pounding within her; she needed the pain to go away, she needed to feel that warmth and acceptance now. The pieces of her heart were shattered fragments scattered here and there and she needed someone willing to pick up the pieces and mend her soul.  
  
When her lips finally met his, all that she had lost became clearer in her mind. All the things she would hold close now only as memories stung her, but also made lighter the burden her emotions were carrying. She wrapped her arms around Runner's neck and kissed him back with a desire to be shown the same love she thought she had known during her year with James.  
  
Runner was at a lost for rationality. Somehow, his mind had linked Mallory and Rhapsody together and had justified his actions with some surreal code that allowed him instant gratification for his mourning heart. Rhapsody was so soft under him, and her body aroused every tensed feeling surging through his veins at that moment. His kisses became harder as he tried to get the most from the rendezvous, his lips trailing down her neck and then back up to make sweet wordless conversation with her lips.  
  
His hands wandered all over her body until they met with her own hands and held them down above her head. He pulled away from her momentarily to catch his panting breath and then hurried back to her lips, those honey-flavored portals to a world of euphoria.  
  
She moaned, begging him to further his advances, wanting to feel his tongue in the caverns of her mouth. And when he obliged her wishes, she could feel the passion gradually increasing between them. The heat was nearly unbearable. She raked her fingers through his hair and urged him on harder and closer. Though it was merely lust, the bad memories were being chased away for the both of them...the pain was slowly dissipating.  
  
Runner knew he'd have to do more than make out with Rhapsody to rid his conscience of Mallory's presence...and he would've risked everything, so low were his hopes of getting back together with the one he loved. He was ready to obliterate every last ounce of faith in him, was ready to lose it all. But as he moved to kiss Rhapsody yet another time, the girl turned her head so that his lips instead met her cheek.  
  
Baffled, he raised an eyebrow at her. "What'sa matter?"  
  
She smiled sadly. "This isn't right. We shouldn't be taking advantage of each other like this. Your heart belongs to another girl and I...well, I'm just vulnerable enough right now to fall for any guy." She freed her hands from his hold and pulled him down for one last kiss before rolling from under him and climbing to her feet. "Not to say I didn't enjoy it, Runner. You really have damn good charm, you know that?"  
  
Still lying on the floor, he turned onto his side and propped his head up onto a hand. "Of course I do!" he exclaimed. "I'm a Conlon!" His lopsided grin was a lazy one, but still maintained his pride perfectly. Yawning, he rubbed his eyes and thought upon how spent he felt. He assumed he had overworked himself in trying to forget about Mallory.  
  
"So admit it, hun," Rhapsody said from the bed upon which she now sat.  
  
Runner looked up at her questioningly, but then understood where she was coming from. He rolled his eyes and laughed lightly. "Okay, FINE. Leave me with no dignity whatsoever; I AM heartbroken! Happy??" She threw a pillow at him and burst into giggles when he chased after her in return.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Review! 


	27. Scrubbing Stalls and Pity Parties

DISCLAIMER: Basically, to put it in simple dictation, all the characters in Disney's Newsies belong to Disney. *SuRpRiSe* All the characters NOT in Disney's Newsies belong to me, with the exception of Angel-she belongs to herself. ^_^ And Rhapsody owns herself as well.  
  
A.N. Yowzerz, so many reviews!! Goodness gracious. ^_^ Uhm...*sigh* I think I'm going to wait until the final chapter to make shout-outs to all the people who've reviewed since Chapter 25-or whatever chapter it was in which I stopped doing shout-outs. Ya know I love ya all though, right? Heehee, it's just that I want to get this story up and ready for y'all to read. W00t w00t! 4 More chapters; can you imagine?! And no sequel...*starts to worry* I guess I should be writing longer chapters from now on. Anywho, enough of my rambling, here's another dose of...  
  
~*Just A Little Bet*~  
  
~*~*~*~*~ Snap stopped dead in her tracks when the surroundings of the area through which Spot was leading her became much too familiar a burden. She had only agreed to accompany the Brooklyn leader on his trek through the borough for the sake of their would-be friendship; believing they had exhausted their verbal warfare back at the bookstore, she had no intentions to pursue enemy relations with him. If anything, she wanted all to be mended. It annoyed her that she would otherwise be endlessly labeled as something she had only become for the sake of her younger siblings...which reminded her, she needed to see about Marysol and Chelsea sometime soon and make sure they had settled in all right. There was no room in her mind for doubts concerning their successful escape from that wretched dump she had once called home; for now, she'd assume they were safe in the monastery.  
  
Casting the matter aside momentarily, she continued walking aside Spot with her defenses drawn up, though not against him. He was actually being rather cordial with her presently, which probably should have made her even more suspicious, but she had always believed no one to be *that* apathetic. She didn't see Spot as the cold-blooded, heartless bastard so many talked him up to be. Sure, he could be a jackass sometimes, and he wasn't the emotional type who would get ridiculously sappy on you, but he wasn't the spawn of the devil either. She laughed at the idea.  
  
Spot looked to her, a smirk on his face. "What's so funny?" She shook her head in response, but he wasn't satisfied. He pressed the inquiry a second time, and when she had denied him again, he snuck an arm around her waist and in one quick pull, brought her face to face with him. "Youse is just filled wid all kinds a secrets, aint ya?"  
  
"Don't try tah figure 'em out, either, Conlon." She shrugged within his hold but did nothing to release herself. "Who knows, ya might not like what ya find out."  
  
"Nah, I like a good mystery." His smirk grew more self-assured and he whispered onto her lips, implying the charm he was so infamous for to see where it would lead him. "After all, I've always loved a good challenge."  
  
For a moment, she couldn't willingly pull away from him, as if some kind of force was prohibiting it. She found that she was losing herself in his eyes; spellbinding as they were, why hadn't she noticed their beauty before? She almost caught her breath in her throat but quickly allowed the feelings to dissipate. What was she thinking! She couldn't allow herself to succumb to this absurdity again...too much pain was involved.  
  
She turned away from him out of his grasp and pretended that a fruit vendor across the street arguing with a customer had attracted her attention. Spot watched her, a bit disappointed, but he only shook his head with a grin and thought nothing more of it. If she wanted to take things slow, it was perfectly fine with him. He had had enough experience with speeding relationships up, only to have them end in disaster.  
  
"Well, we'se better get going 'fore the boiys eat up all the lunch." Not waiting for her answer, he started to walk down the sidewalk heading towards the docks and his lodging house. Unlike Manhattan, the Brooky's hadn't ever established a diner as their own, and besides, they had unanimously agreed that their money was better spent elsewhere; new shoes and thicker clothes for the winter didn't buy themselves. And so, with the help of their lodge keeper Mr. Scaparti, the boys took turns making lunch for their brood.  
  
If Spot remembered correctly, however, the twins Mace and Mason would be in charge of the kitchen today. He inwardly shuddered. He could only imagine what slop they would throw together and call food. Last time they cooked, he had gotten a stomachache for four days.  
  
Snap spun around at his words, not understanding what he had meant. His back was facing her as he progressed on his way, but she willed herself to remain unmoving and so called out after him. "Whaddya mean 'fore the boiys eat up all the lunch?"  
  
Without turning to face her, he replied, "well there's about fifty of 'em, Snappy. And there's only so much food. Sooner or latah, it'll be gone and I'se aint lookin' forward tah skippin' lunch today." He finally stopped walking and leaned onto a lamp pole while he waited for her to catch up with him. "So if youse'll kindly pick up the pace..."  
  
"Whoa, whoa. Ya think I'se goin' back tah that place? The fellahs there friggin' hate me! I aint gunna sit in no room where everyone's glarin' at me and wishin' I'se was dead." She crossed her arms and stood her ground. "Why can't we'se just grab a bite at Tibby's or somethin', huh? Why ya gotta make it so hard?"  
  
He let out a dramatic sigh and looked at her as if she were being unreasonably childish. "They's aint gunna treat ya like that, all right? Cause the foist scab who even thinks of opening 'is mouth tah insult ya will have the pleasure of feelin' me fist ram into 'is face. So long as youse and me is friends, they won't have a problem wid ya. They accept who I accept."  
  
"Somehow, that aint too reassurin'. They may act all nice in front of youse, but the moment ya leave the room, I have a feelin' they's gunna toin into complete asses."  
  
"Yea, ya probably right." Though the situation called him to be serious, he couldn't suppress a laugh from escaping him. Bipolar attitudes, one of the reasons he loved the enigma that was the Brooklyn realm. He pushed himself off the lamp pole and neared her in a few strides. "Listen, no one's forcing ya tah go anywhere. If ya don't wanna go tah Brooklyn, it's fine wid me but I can't be changing me plans to accommodate ya. I don't mean tah sound harsh or anything, but I'm only bein' honest."  
  
She nodded, fully understanding. That was one thing she liked about Spot, he was always forward in his words or actions. If he thought you should know something, he wouldn't hesitate to tell you. And if he felt like doing something, he'd undoubtedly do it. Nothing held him back. "Well...ya think they'll be civil if ya tell 'em to?"  
  
"They shoah as hell will be once I get through wid 'em." His grin contradicted the violent promises of the statement. He rested his hands on his hips and arched an eyebrow as if to say 'well?'  
  
Snap felt a foreshadowing within her of terrible things to come. Why was she agreeing to walk forth into a territory filled with boys that despised her? Did she truly believe Spot could make them see her differently even after their opinions had been practically engraved in stone? She had high hopes. "Okay, I'll go," she said simply.  
  
"Great. Now let's get movin', huh?" Spot turned around once again towards his destination, waited for Snap to fall into step beside him, and then started off to Brooklyn.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
A rainy day kept the Manhattan newsboys from hawking afternoon editions as the inclement weather seemed to find pleasure in remaining directly over their borough. And so, the lodging house was more crowded than usual so early in the day, driving Kloppman mad-for he was quite accustomed to silence until late evening and upon seeing that he would be granted no such solitude in which to read a book or catch up on balancing his funding files, he acted much in the manner of an annoyed grandfather.  
  
"Racetrack!" he nearly yelled as he slowly shuffled his way into the lodge's main room, careful not to flare up his back's arthritic tendencies. The boys there were lounged about a round table missing a leg, that leg having been made up for with stacked books. "Racetrack! Did ya get those books from my office, huh?"  
  
Race put out his cigar bashfully and stammered for an answer. He could already feel the wrath of the chastising father-figure Kloppman often was towards the boy. "Uh...well, the boiys was needin' somethin' tah hold the table up right and..."  
  
Kloppman waved a hand to signal he didn't wish to hear any more. He pushed his glasses farther up the bridge of his nose and mumbled something under his breath about how the day's youth needed to learn respect for their elders. The other boys seated only grinned and snickered at Race's scolding while the Italian glared at them. "Now, what's poker gunna get ya in life, Racetrack, eh? It's all ya do, day in and day out, but is it gunna make ya successful in life, boy?"  
  
"Actually, sir," piped up Blink, "I hear that gamblers is makin' some good cash these days." The others rightfully laughed, up until Kloppman smacked Blink upside the head and grinned; then the laughed downright exploded into hilarity. Blink tried to look hurt by the action, but he had to smirk at the rebuttal.  
  
"Now as I was sayin' before you rejects interrupted me," Kloppman continued all in jest, "is that you boys need to learn some discipline 'round here! Now clean up this mess and start scrubbin' the washroom 'til it's bright and sanitary, ya hear me?"  
  
Mush's eyes nearly popped out their sockets. He bolted upright in his chair, gripping the edges of the table before him as if he'd collapse to the floor if he didn't have some kind of stability. His mouth gaping for a few seconds, he finally gathered his bearings and squeaked out a protest. "Scrub the washrooms!?" His wide eyes and curly locks of hair made him look almost boyish. "But that's...that's so...doity! Won't we'se get goims or somethin'?"  
  
Blink and a few of the other newsies gathered around laughed and shook their heads at Mush's outcry, playfully punching his arm and exchanging joking comments that Mush was 'such a goil'.  
  
"I don't wanna hear ya whining and complainin'," Kloppman said as he turned away and headed for his office where maybe he could find some peace and quiet. "Get up them stairs and get tah work!"  
  
The boys moaned and groaned as Race collected each hand of cards and shuffled them back into his deck. "This is injustice," he muttered. "I'se can't believe that he's makin' us clean this place up! The way it is now is fine wid me."  
  
"Aint there somethin' else we'se could do 'sides cleanin' up the washroom?" It was Mush who had asked the question, and he looked absolutely miserable at being presented the job Kloppman had assigned them.  
  
"Ah, Mushie, soak it up, huh?" Blink draped an arm around his friend's shoulders and guided him towards the staircase. "What would the goils thinks of youse if they saw ya like this?" The younger of the two blushed at the mention of the opposite gender, giving his friends just one more thing to laugh at for the day.  
  
"What's so funny?"  
  
They turned around to see Vixen walking down the corridor that led to the storage room and mess of a kitchen. One of the springs for her bunk's mattress had busted and she had hoped that perhaps there were extra mattresses somewhere about the lodging house, but her search had proved in vain. She'd have to end up enduring an uncomfortable night from now on.  
  
Race shrugged with a grumble. "Nothin' really. We'se just reveling in the fate Kloppman gave us. Cleanin' out the damn stalls."  
  
"Oh yea? Well don't let me keep youse talkin' then. I should be ge..."  
  
"Wait!" Mush exclaimed, freeing himself from under Blink's arm. "How come we'se is the only ones that's gots tah do somethin' 'round heah? Why aint Vixen ever done manual labor? Cause she's a goil?" He crossed his arms in childish indignation.  
  
Vixen rolled her eyes, but smiled anyhow. "Well aint we'se actin' all hoity-toity today!" She gently smacked Mush's cheek, invoking a bashful smile from him, and shuffled her weight from one foot to the other in thought while they watched her in expectancy. "Fine!" she said at last, throwing her hands up in the air. "I'll...I'll wash the blasted dishes in the kitchen. Happy?" She turned on her heels before receiving their reply.  
  
The kitchen was an utter mess. Vixen groaned at the piles of dishes and stray scraps of food left for her to conquer. The place looked like a madhouse! Cabinet doors were left open, empty boxes of crackers toppled over and coffee grains spilled onto the surfaces of the counters below. The plates in the sink stunk of discarded leftovers one might find in trash bins and in one area of the kitchen floor was a mound of spaghettis that had obviously been unintentionally dropped to the floor but then discarded.  
  
The girl pulled back her hair with a piece of cloth and wondered over where to start. She liked making things clean, but the process was sometimes just too overwhelming. She walked the length of the kitchen, examining the damages and finally concluded that this chaos was why Manhattan always went out to eat. The boys were too lazy to clean after their own untidiness.  
  
"Well..." she looked about her, speculating. "I guess I should start off cleanin' out the cabinets." She retrieved a chair from the main room and dragged it into the kitchen where she situated it against the counter. Then, climbing atop it so that she was at level with the cabinets, she began her task. She threw the empty boxes over her head and onto the floor behind her, simultaneously swiping away cobwebs with a dirty rag she had found. "I haaate spiders!" She nearly screamed when a daddy-longlegs speeded down the cabinet with means to traverse her arm had she not pulled it away.  
  
Looking about her to make sure no one had picked up on one of her lesser weaknesses, she concentrated on the cleaning again. There was a glass plate nestled farther back in the cabinet she was presently working on and she reached forth to grab it. In better light, she found that its top was covered with a newspaper dated from eight months ago. A bit hesitant, she pulled away the paper and met a most disgusting sight of worm- infested apple slices decked across something she didn't even want to begin wondering upon. The stench was what got to her the most, and taken aback by its strong odor, she pulled back from the dish only to lose her balance and fall to the ground.  
  
The glass plate shattered from the fall, its crystalline pieces lying scattered about the floor like shaved icicles. Vixen moaned from the pain of the fall and sat up on her elbows, shaking the daze out of her. When she saw the ruined dish, she cursed and immediately set to grouping together the pieces. Only seconds later, Jack rushed into the room looking quite panicked.  
  
"Is everything okay!?" he asked worriedly, his breathing nearly panting and his eyes wide with fear.  
  
"Oh...well kinda, yea." Vixen frowned. She motioned to the shattered glass all over the floor. "I accidentally broke one of the dishes."  
  
Jack ignored the statement. "Are youse all right?" He strode over to her, not once glancing at the ruins. He had been conversing with Kloppman about yesterday's headlines when he had heard the shattering glass. Afraid that one of the younger newsies had gotten themselves into a mishap, he dashed down the hallways. Upon seeing Vixen, however, he grew even more compassionate.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Are youse all right?" he repeated. She remained on the floor staring at him as if he had lost his mind. With a sigh, he knelt down beside her and took her hands in his own to see if she had been cut.  
  
"Jack, I'm fine," she answered him finally, though she didn't take her hands back from him. "I just fell is all. But the plate, I broke one of the plates..."  
  
He shrugged. "So what? We'se could always replace one of those. But youse is more valuable." Embarrassed by the honest words, he tried to finagle his way out of coming across so gentle. "After all, I'se can't replace one of me newsies, right?" He quickly released her hands and stood to his feet, adjusting the sleeves of his shirt for no particular reason other than to take his attention off Vixen.  
  
She also stood up and watched him with narrowed eyes. "So is that all I am tah youse, Jack Kelly? Just another one of ya newsies?"  
  
He fixed his eyes back onto her, surprised she had asked him such a thing. What was he to say? He kept telling himself to confess his feelings for her, but his pride kept him from doing just that. What would everyone else think of him, seeing him head over heels like this. "Were youse expectin' me tah think of you as somethin' else?" he asked nonchalantly.  
  
"Ya full of it, ya know that?" She threw the rag she had been holding onto the floor and stormed out the kitchen, slamming the door behind her. When she was gone, Jack kicked at one of the glass shards.  
  
"Damnit, Kelly," he whispered to himself. "What'd ya go and do now?"  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Spot entered his lodging house like a returning king, pulling open both doors of the Brooklyn lodge's entrance and then sauntering in like royalty. Snap followed in closely behind him, thankful the main room lacked sufficient lighting and hoping attention would not be drawn towards her.  
  
"Heya," Spot greeted those newsies who were keeping themselves occupied in whatever way they found fit, "where's the rest of the crew?" A small boy who looked to be around six or seven years old explained to his leader that some boys were upstairs playing cards or marbles, while others had journeyed to Staten Island for a free cabaret show. Spot nodded in thanks for the information and proceeded into the room.  
  
An all too familiar sight stopped him in his tracks and caused him to groan in annoyance. Runner was sprawled out onto the room's only couch upside down, a cigarette in one hand while he read yesterday's paper. Spot rolled his eyes and neared his cousin. "Runnah, get ya lazy ass up, huh? All youse has been doin' lately is sitting 'round throwin' yaself pity parties."  
  
Runner laid his head back and looked up at the Brooklyn leader's voice, seeing an inverted vision of Spot. Saying not a word in response, he focused back on his newspaper. The elder Conlon didn't favor being ignored, though. With means to seek revenge, he casually walked over to the backside of the couch, seized Runner's sock-covered feet, and shoved the boy off the piece of furniture. Runner yelped and landed onto the floor with a resounding 'thump'.  
  
"Damn, Spot, could youse be any more of a jackass?" Runner thought to climb to a standing position, but merely remained on the floor for lack of energy. He reached for his cigarette which had rolled away from his hand and was glad it hadn't gone to waste.  
  
"As a mattah a' fact, I can," the other answered with a smirk.  
  
"Ah, leave him alone, Conlon. The kid's freakin' heartbroken!" Rhapsody marched down the stairs gracefully, the ends of her ankle-length skirt brushing across each step with ease. "Of course, you wouldn't know anything about that, seeing how ya don't give a damn about any girl these days." She grinned at her leader teasingly and crossed the room to sit upon the couch Runner had just occupied.  
  
Runner was watching her incredulously. "D'ya think we'se can keep me romance life on the down low?" he hissed at her.  
  
But the commotion and gossip had already commenced. All the Brooky's gathered in the main room began to draw closer together to press their burning questions. "Runnah's in love?" "Who's the goil, Runnah?" "Another one of Spot's goils you stole?" Though everyone laughed at that last comment, Spot shot them a look of warning that silenced them.  
  
"Ah, Spotty. Don't be hatin' us or anything," one of the older boys said cheerfully as he jokingly threw some punches at Spot's arm. "Now thinkin' about it, I don't think youse was ever in love."  
  
"Spot's too good tah be in love, ya idiot."  
  
"Nah, he just aint found the poifect goil yet."  
  
Rhapsody watched on as everyone took turns teasing their leader. On intolerable days, Spot would have most likely snapped at each one of them and demand they shut their traps before he soaked them good, but today he seemed to be in high spirits. One could hardly get away with insulting Spot Conlon, even in jest. She caught his eye and then smiled brightly. "Spot isn't a romantic, fellahs. I don't think we'll ever see him settled down."  
  
Spot shrugged with a smirk. "Well what can I say? When youse gots the entire female population of New Yawk on their knees fer youse, settlin' down aint that easy a thing tah do." He became cockier when his boys snickered at the crude remark and slapped hands with a few who were nearest him. Rhapsody only rolled her eyes; sometimes, she hated living with dozens of teenage boys.  
  
"That's all good," Runner remarked from where he lay on the floor. "But I hope ya realize that they's only on their knees cause I wore 'em out the night before." His grin was a devilish one as the laughter in the main room crescendoed. He saw the spark in his cousin's eyes calculating a clever comeback, but when Runner noticed a girl standing behind him who had yet to speak a word, he narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "What the hell is Snap doin' heah?" he asked bluntly.  
  
At the mention of the girl whose name had come to be a curse in Brooklyn, everyone turned to face Snap, eyes set into hard glares. No one had even noticed she was present! A fierce tension began to arise in the room and the throng of newsies closed in tighter to prevent her escape. Snap's heart nearly stopped by the sudden attention; she could feel the hatred radiating off everyone. She stepped back hesitantly and looked to Spot for some kind of aid.  
  
One of the first to speak was Scapegoat, who crossed his arms and spat onto the ground near Snap's feet with disdain. "Yea, what's a whore doin' in a place like this? Sorry, doll face, but we'se don't look too favorably on sluts. Why don't ya hit a bordello or somethin'?"  
  
"Yea, get outta heah, slut!"  
  
"Spot, make 'er leave! We don't like no damn doity people in this place!"  
  
But Spot acted quite contrary to that last boy's request. With a strain of inhuman rage, the Brooklyn leader marched over to the boy in question, seized him by the front of his shirt, and threw him down onto the hardwood floor. Placing his shoe upon the boy's chest, he spoke words that instantly sent chills down every Brooky's spine. "If I ever hear ya say shit like that again, or if someone tells me that youse is actin' like a jackass behind me back, you can be shoah as hell that I'll break every damn bone in ya body." He pressed his foot down onto the boy harder. "Is that Understood??"  
  
The boy nodded with incredible speed, and rolled over to catch his breath once Spot had released him. The leader looked the others in the eyes, making visual contact with every last one so that they might know the rules applied to them as well. Finally, his gaze rested onto Runner, who had by now pulled himself back onto the couch beside Rhapsody.  
  
"Foist of all, this is a lodgin' house in case any of youse is too stupid tah remember that," he said sternly. "We don't question why anyone is heah and we coitanly don't make 'em feel unwelcome."  
  
Runner fidgeted under his cousin's glare. Gulping down to clear his throat, he tried to splutter out an answer. "S-spot, I'se was just askin' why she..."  
  
"SHUT UP!" the other yelled. Spot let the words settle into everyone's mind before continuing. Figuring Runner wasn't the only one to whom some scolding was due, he fixed his eyes on the others. "I don't give a damn why ya do somethin', ya hear me?? It aint none of ya business, simple as that. If youse gots a problem, ya come tah me."  
  
He took off his hat, his golden locks dampened with sweat, and held it at his side while he resumed his leadership duties. "Now does anyone have a problem wid that?" No one did. "Good. Now I'll be goin' up tah me room now. If anyone even thinks of botherin' me with some stupid complaint or just..." He combed his fingers through his hair angrily. "...or just anything! I swear you'll hate me by the end of the day cause I aint gunna be leavin' no room for mercy this time around."  
  
Then feeling he had said enough, he turned on his heels and motioned to Snap to follow him up the stairs that led to his room. Once they were on the second floor, she exhaled a sigh of relief but stopped midway down the hall and pulled Spot around to face her.  
  
"Was that really necessary?" she whispered to him.  
  
"What?"  
  
She groaned at his ignorance. She swore, sometimes Spot just didn't think things through! "If they didn't hate me before, they definitely do now!"  
  
He furrowed his forehead in confusion. "Whaddya talkin' about? Are ya deaf or somethin'? I just told 'em all one wrong move would end 'em up in the beatin' of their lives. They aint gunna mess wid youse now."  
  
"But it don't mean they's not gunna hate me! Ugh! If they can't despise me openly, it's just gunna make 'em hate me all the more! Didn't ya see their faces when they realized I was in the room? They practically want me dead!" She sagged her body against a wall and let out an exasperated sigh. "I shouldn't have come heah, even if it was only for lunch. I don't belong heah."  
  
Spot didn't know what she wanted him to say so as his mind fumbled for words that might comfort her, he brushed a few strands of her raven black hair behind an ear and stepped closer to her. "Listen, I...well, I know it's hard for youse and all, but ya can't let 'em get the best of youse, ya know? They're me newsies, and if I tell 'em tah do somethin' they'll do it. If ya want, I could maybe talk tah 'em about it and...I guess we'll see what happens from there."  
  
"I just hope they listen tah youse," she said softly. She looked up to meet his look and was, for the second time that day, lost in the dazzling hues of sapphire that were his eyes. Soon after, she felt his hands resting comfortably on her hips and realized they were standing closer than she had realized.  
  
Her heart beating rapidly, she took a chance on love this time around and didn't pull away when he pressed his lips against her own.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
PLUGS:  
  
"As the Curtain Falls" by Sita-chan  
  
"The Show Must Go On" by Rhapsody4  
  
"Bittersweet Martyrdom" by Morning Dew (yea, lol, another story for my repertoire. But the format got messed up during the upload. *growls* Ah well, the story's still intact so read and review when you get a chance!) 


	28. A LongAwaited Defiance

DISCLAIMER: Basically, to put it in simple dictation, all the characters in Disney's Newsies belong to Disney. *SuRpRiSe* All the characters NOT in Disney's Newsies belong to me, with the exception of Angel-she belongs to herself. ^_^ And Rhapsody owns herself as well.  
  
A.N. Dear me, dear me. I just keep getting more and more reviews for this story by the day. I never thought it'd grow into this huge mass of plots and such. Hmm. ^_^ And I love it when my readers love what they read! It makes me happy, ya know?  
  
*Runner brings out tissue* There, there, Dewey. Just get on with the chapter, huh?  
  
Heehee. But seriously, thanks to everyone who's reviewing! It really means a lot to me! On a side note, I sent in my admissions application to Rollins College today, so please keep me in your prayers and thoughts! *crosses fingers* I really want to go there! They have an excellent writing program!  
  
~*Just A Little Bet*~  
  
~*~*~*~*~ Runner Conlon was on cloud nine.  
  
It had all started one morning following Snap's visit to Brooklyn in which the younger Conlon and his cousin were meandering about the borough exchanging small chat on matters of the heart, which was indeed a rare happening as they were more apt to keeping their feelings bottled up within most the time. But straying from the norm, they began opening up to each other and Spot was finally able to pry out unreleased stress from Runner's system.  
  
"Lemme tell ya somethin' kid," the Brooklyn leader had said, draping an arm over the other's shoulders. "Youse can please as many people as ya like, go tah some richy school, and become the most respected gent in all a' New Yawk, but if youse aint happy wid a single thing about ya life, then ya only livin' a lie."  
  
The words had hit close to home for Runner. He supposed he had always subconsciously realized the fact, but he'd never analyze it as so. He'd never come to the conclusion that he was only deceiving himself by continuing to meet everyone's expectations but his own. Upon grasping the concept, though, he was filled with mixed emotions-contempt, sadness, confusion. And so with that air, he had bid farewell to his cousin and started off for Morningside Heights (after having been in Brooklyn two days or so, and after having had his picture featured in the 'missing child' sections of the major paper chains all the while).  
  
Marching down the city sidewalks, he had been rehearsing what he'd tell his father when a soft voice called out his name from behind. He turned quickly around; the greeting had broken his train of thought and more so had startled him. But nothing could surprise him more than finding himself standing before Mallory with not a clue as to what he should say. She was decked out in the school uniform, hair tied back with a black satin ribbon and a pair of books tucked under her arm.  
  
"Hey," she had said to him when it was obvious he wouldn't be the one to initiate a conversation.  
  
Runner shook his head as if trying to rid himself of the dewdrops of imagination and continued to stare at her. He hadn't even known from where she had come! Gathering his thoughts, then, he had remembered that it was noon and that classes were dismissed for a period of recreation. She had probably been visiting her father during the allotted time. "Uh..."  
  
She sighed. "Listen, Lucas. I'm really honestly sorry about all that happened. I don't even have feelings for your cousin; I'd never do something like that to hurt you! What we had was special to me, and I cared about you so much. Spot wanted to...he wanted me to forget about you, but I couldn't, Lucas. And I didn't." Her voice had wavered, almost like it would before one is set to cry, but she regained control and started off again. "If you had listened to me that day when I was telling you...I didn't, I didn't get to finish, and then you became so mad and I..."  
  
"Mallory..." He had always loved saying her name and it hadn't been an exception then. He slid the derby hat off from atop his head, glanced around him hesitantly, and then stepped closer to her. "Mallory, there really isn't any reason for you to be apologizing like this. I'm the one who totally went off on you, and made you feel like something you aren't. I acted like a jackass, to put it bluntly." He'd let out a sigh as he thought about what to say next. "I don't know what it is, girl. I've just been...stressed lately..."  
  
"I understand, and it's okay. Really. I know that you're under a lot of pressure with your father and all..."  
  
"You have no idea! It's like, he expects me to be some kind of prodigy or something! I can't live up to it anymore, you know? It's ruining my life!" He'd look at her and though he saw a friend willing to listen to his rant, he knew it wasn't the time or the place. "Mallory, I shouldn't have gone off on you like I did. It...I wasn't...damn, I don't know. It runs in the family I guess."  
  
She smiled at him. She definitely hadn't a problem with believing that statement. Their words became silence once again and an uncomfortable air fell upon them. Neither knew what to do or how to act; it was almost as if they were strangers again meeting for the first time. Runner fidgeted with the hat in his hands, attempting with much frustration to find something...anything to say! When a possible topic dawned on him, he looked up with sparkling eyes and parted his lips to speak.  
  
But Mallory stole the opportunity from him when she neared him in one step, put a hand behind his head, and pulled him close to her for that first kiss they had never shared.  
  
It was spell-binding. Both felt a rush of excitement and weightlessness surge through them like a storm, and it was seductive indeed. Runner's hat fell from his hands as he returned the kiss and wrapped his arms around the girl's lower waist, pulling her closer to him as the embrace deepened. Mallory's fingers combed through his golden locks while she let her heart pour out into the kiss, declaring to him that he was the only one she wanted. It was ecstatic, two forces of nature clashing to coalesce into one.  
  
He kissed her as if his salvation lied within her, as if his very existence depended on her. She was his world, and every last thought in his mind was revolving around her. The silk touch of her lips, the sweetness of her mouth, feeling her beating heart against his chest...he took everything in, and would have gone further, but a pressing matter was pulling on his heart strings and he couldn't put it off for any longer.  
  
He reluctantly pulled away from her moments later, staring into her eyes with a lovesick smile. "That has got to be, without a doubt, the single greatest moment in my life up to date." She laughed in response and he kissed her lightly on the forehead. They stood there in each other's arm for quite some time, merely holding one another, for nothing more had to be said.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
"Father Conlon, there isn't very much we can do anymore. The authorities have searched the streets for a 'Lucas Isaiah Conlon' for days now. Every major morning and afternoon edition has announced his disappearance, we post ads at local taverns, inns, and schools in case the people come across him. What more would you ask of us?"  
  
The head priest at St. John's rested his face in his hands, his arms propped up on their elbows, as he sat at his desk listening to the facts from Chief Reynolds. Mother Conlon sat in a chair across from him, a shadow of grey under her beautiful eyes giving evidence to her mourning and a tissue in her hands which she from time to time would use to dry away the tears that cascaded down her face. Their son had been gone for much too long, and the harsh realities of their violent society drilled fear into their hearts.  
  
"I just don't understand," the Father said after a long while. "I mean, there are only so many possibilities as to where he could be. I'd hate to result to the negative ones, but have you even bothered to look into the lesser neighborhoods in the city. How do we know he wasn't...well, God forbid, but how do we know he wasn't abducted from the campus?"  
  
Mother Conlon went into hysteria at the notion, causing the chief to look back in concern, but the Father assured him the woman would be fine and was best left alone. There would never be anything to remedy a mother's grieving heart. The men talked some more about the matter over her light sobs when a knock sounded on the door. Annoyed by the disturbance but knowing he'd have to answer to it, the priest called out a "come in" and waited for the individual to show himself as he once again placed his head in his hands as if in defeat.  
  
The door opened, footsteps sounded as someone entered, and then the wooden structure closed. Not a single word of greeting was uttered. Curious who the visitor was, Mother Conlon looked up from her crying with a sniffle; though her vision was blurred by tears, she instantly registered the appearance of the one before her. "Lucas!" she nearly screamed, as she rushed from her seat and collected the boy in her arms, smudging his face and hair with kisses and squeezing him with a suffocating grip he didn't know she was capable of applying.  
  
With remarkable speed, she began asking him the obvious question of where he had been, but before he could answer, she only continued to press an endless supply of inquiries. Are you okay? Did anyone hurt you? Why didn't you contact us? Have you eaten anything? Baby, where were you? She checked his face and arms for any signs of physical abuse, and then started up the kisses again. Runner tried to maintain a serious composure, but had to smirk at the treatment. He never did feel unnoticed when his mother was in the equation.  
  
Chief Reynolds rose from his seat with a grand smile. "Well now, son," he said, patting Runner on the shoulder. "You sure gave your family a scare. When you're ready to report what happened, just stop by the station any time this week, all right? I'll leave you with your family now." He nodded at the Father, and then showed himself out.  
  
Runner knew the wrath was forthcoming. Though his mother showered him with an abundance of love, his father's current mood was...rather foul.  
  
"Lucas, do you mind telling us where you were these past few days? Hopefully not gallivanting through the borough while your mother was worried sick about you!"  
  
"Only my mother?" the boy asked with the slightest hint of disdain.  
  
"Don't you dare take that tone with me, you understand me?"  
  
Runner rolled his eyes and slowly stepped out of his mother's hold to walk closer to the desk behind which Father Conlon now stood. He collapsed into one of the office chairs with a huge sigh and waited for the man to scold him. "Patricia," the priest said, "maybe it'd be best if Lucas and I spoke alone..."  
  
Mother Conlon nodded quickly, strode towards her son to kiss and hug him once more, and then exited out the room with a glad heart. Runner watched her leave forlornly and then turned his gaze back onto his father, knowing full well he had it coming.  
  
"So?"  
  
The young Conlon looked at him and feigned naivety. "So what?"  
  
"Lucas, don't play this ignorant game with me. You've missed three days of school, church services, and ministerial duties and I'd very much like to know why. I won't stand this slipshod attitude of yours any longer. You have countless responsibilities to uphold and I won't see you slack off like some worthless street rat." He slammed a hand onto the desk to emphasize his point and stared down at his son with a fierce parental look.  
  
"Father, I'm not slacking off, I'm going to make up all that I..."  
  
"Not another word about it. Where were you?"  
  
Runner inwardly screamed for having been interrupted as was custom whenever speaking to his father. He figured he should have known he wouldn't be able to get anything across, but he'd kind of hope it'd be different this time around. He diverted his attention to his shoelaces and sighed; the truth would have to come out sooner or later. "I was in Brooklyn," he said steadily, "staying with Sp...uh, Andrew for a while."  
  
He didn't even have to look up to know the man's neck veins had tightened with rage. It was only a matter of seconds now. Runner could already hear the derogatory comments echoing in the room. "You aren't to see Andrew any longer, do you understand me?"  
  
Holding up a chastising finger, he pointed it at the boy as if it were a spear by which he hoped to condemn his very own son. "You'll never amount to anything if you continue to make company with a piece of trash like your cousin. Don't you remember his father, Lucas? You weren't too young. The man was a wasted drunk! Do you seriously want to end up like that? Andrew's only heading in the same direction, what with his confounded newspapers and the sort. We offered him the fine life, and what did he do? He threw it back into our faces like an ungrateful brat!"  
  
"Not everyone thinks like you, father," Runner said softly, not trying in any way to be disrespectful. "Andrew simply didn't want to be boxed up."  
  
"So he'd much rather live in a world of chaos? Typical, just like his father." The priest walked from behind his desk with a certain air of prestige and came to stand right beside his son. He looked down at him, almost in a condescending manner and pulled his lips into a straight line. "Which brings me to another matter that's been brought to my attention. Rumor has it that my son has been seen around school holding hands with a young lady by the name of Mallory Alexandria Carter?"  
  
Runner froze. Damn, it had been a sly attack. Why hadn't he seen where this was leading all along? He shifted under the tension of his father's stare and tried to connive a worthy lie, but the words died down at the base of his tongue. What was the use? He was already this deep in trouble; he might as well go the full distance. "Well, father, I'd be more than happy to indulge you with the facts. Mallory just happens to be my girlfriend." The voice hadn't even sounded like his own once his ears had picked up the words, but after they were said, a smile played on his lips and he waited for a response.  
  
"Your, your what?!" The man's form stood rigid, his fists clenching and unclenching as waves of anger washed over him. "You would make me the laughing stock of the church! You know more than anyone else that relationships defy the vows for priesthood you will be making next week! Why do you continue to act in the manner of a fool, Lucas? This is a disgrace, and utter nonsense!"  
  
Runner sat up straight in his chair as to not come across as some nonchalant youth who didn't know what he wanted in life. His father thought so lowly of him already, and he needed to announce his decision with an aura of calmness and wisdom. "I never in my life said I wanted to be a priest. I only did it to please you, but it didn't..." He paused to consider his words, but primarily to deliberate over whether he was finally ready to stand up to his father. It was harder than he had originally thought, being open and honest as so. "You never...you never were happy with what I did, even when it was my best. But I tried so hard, father. I couldn't seem, I....it was..."  
  
"How dare you sit there and even fathom reiterating this pure excrement! You think you're able to map out your life on your own and you can't even spit five words out your mouth without stuttering." He shook his head in disapproval. This was ridiculous and he didn't understand why of all people, his son was the one acting mindlessly. "You will end the relationship with the girl, take your vows next week, and obey me the way a young man is expected to obey his father. Are we clear on this?"  
  
Runner almost nodded like the numerous times he had done before. Like a cowardly dog backing away from a fight with its tail between its legs, he almost accepted failure. It would have been so easy to simply say a heartless "yes, father" and enter back into the melancholia of his systemized life. It would have been less of a challenge on his part to pass the victor's prize to his father and admit to the foolhardiness of his youth.  
  
But he was sick and tired of not being listened to, of being bossed around as if he were the servant of some castle court, and most of all, of never having known fatherly love. His father was too absorbed with other matters to even take his son out to lunch one afternoon and talk about simple things like sports, current events, and the ways of life. Runner had been raised by his elder cousin, not the father who preached about love yet never showed it. The young Conlon knew the time had come to make his stand.  
  
He moistened his lips in preparation, his heart thumping wildly in his ears, and gulped down his fears. Now or never, now or never. "I won't do any of that," he said, power in each syllable.  
  
His father gave him an incredulous look. "Excuse me?"  
  
"Sadly enough, Mallory's a bigger part of my life than you are, and so I won't end one of the few things in my life that keeps me wanting to see another day." Gaining confidence, he rose from his chair and casually began to walk the length of the room, heading towards the door. "As for priesthood, I won't take vows that aren't heartfelt. There's more than one way to serve God, and I intend on doing just that without the hypocrisy of the clergy." He grasped the doorknob behind him, ready for the final offense. It'd take serious courage, and he was ready to release it once and for all. "And obedience? Well, you may be my father, but I'd be damned if you ever acted like one."  
  
With that, he sent a glare to his father, who could only gape in shock, and then left the room with head held high.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
The day proved to be just as eventful at Tibby's. Race had somehow managed once again to pull Becca out the confines of her house and Sheepshead world and now the girl sat aside him at one of the restaurant tables trying to learn, with the aid of Blink and Angel, how to play poker.  
  
She combed her carrot-shaded hair behind her ears and tried her best to look upset, but she only ended up laughing all the more. "I don't understand this at all!" she confessed at last. "How the heck am I supposed to know which cards to trade in for new ones?"  
  
"It's all a game of chance," Angel replied with a grin. "But ya know what? I don't even know why you bother playing the game with Race. Isn't it weird how he wins every single game?" She gave him a playful accusing look.  
  
"Heya, I resent that!" Race put the cigar he was currently smoking back in his mouth and took a few swigs of it as if in deep thought while he examined his hand of cards. "And it aint no game of chance, Angel. The real players know how to make the best of everything."  
  
"Suuure, Racey-boy. If you say so." Growing bored with the game, however, she laid down her cards and yawned lazily. It had been a tiring chore having to work at the hospital today. Her boss always kept her on her feet, whether it was to check in patients or write up prescriptions, or simply file away records. It'd be months before she was admitted into the emergency rooms, and the wait was starting to grow tedious. "I think I'm going to head on out, take a walk or something. I need fresh air."  
  
As she started to rise from her seat, Blink followed suit and laid down his cards as well, fully thinking it was a blatant invitation for him to accompany her. But she turned to face him as he pushed in his chair and gave him an amused look. "Sweety," she said, "I think it'd actually be better if you stay here..."  
  
Offended by the suggestion but not letting it show on his face, he laughed it off and walked with her to the door so that the conversation was solely between them. "Whaddya mean? Ya don't want me wid youse?"  
  
She sighed. She knew it would eventually come to this, that he would automatically assume that her forgiving him instantly meant they were a couple again. But they weren't! And she wasn't going to let him forget that. "Blink, we're not even together. Why are you acting like this? Didn't we agree that we'd be friends for now?"  
  
"Friends! What about that kiss ya gave me the other night, huh?"  
  
"That was just for kicks," she shrugged. "A sort of spurt of the moment thing, ya know?"  
  
His face flushed at the words and he crossed his arms, not knowing what to do with them and too angry to figure it out. "What!"  
  
"Don't give me that!" She glared right back at him. "Don't you remember, you use to do the same things! Why should it be any different now?" When he had nothing more to say, she started to reach for the door behind her to exit, but he gently grabbed her hand before she could complete the task and sighed.  
  
"Angel, hear me out, goil. I know I'se been anything *but* a good boyfriend tah youse when we'se was together, but I said I was sorry! I don't know what more ya want me tah do. Tell me, and I will, though. Honestly. Ya want me tah get on me knees and beg?"  
  
"Please don't," she said with a small smile. "I really have no idea what I want you to do, Blink. I guess for now, I just want space. Just space and time to think about things."  
  
He nodded, completely understanding. The only way he was going to get through this was by letting her re-evaluate the situation. "All right then. Youse take all the time ya need, ya hear me?" He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it softly. "And I'll be waitin' for ya the whole time."  
  
She slowly pulled her hand back, her smile widening. "Thanks," she whispered to him. Then she said goodbye and walked out the door, only once looking back to wave at him.  
  
Meanwhile, Race and Becca had since retired the game of poker after Angel's leave and had instead resulted to talking. Though it was mostly teasing. Race combed his fingers through the girl's long tresses and grinned at her. "I can't believe youse is thinking 'bout leavin' Sheepshead for other woik. Youse was attached to them stables at the hip!"  
  
She laughed and shooed his hand away, scooting closer to him on the booth as he draped an arm around her shoulders. "Well, I never said I had made a final decision on the matter. To be truthful, I can't even see myself being away from those horses for the rest of my life. Like I told ya before, they're like my family."  
  
Race nodded in agreement. He had seen the way she worked with the animals. It was unmistakable how much she loved and cared for them, as if they were her children and she their guardian angel. Everything she did for the horses was out of care and concern, and her days with them were never spiteful ones. Musing upon this for a moment, he wondered about another thing. "Becca?"  
  
"Yea?"  
  
"D'ya........." he sighed and suddenly felt incredibly stupid for posing the inquiry. "D'ya consider me a part of ya family now?"  
  
She looked at him with warm eyes, her smile brighter than ever and her look clearly giving him the answer she thought he had already known. "Of course, Race! But why do I get the feeling that was just your sly way of getting a pity kiss from me?"  
  
"I haven't a clue," he said simply before stealing one from her.  
  
On the other side of the restaurant carried on yet another conflict. Jack Kelly was presently reiterating the details of the famous strike to a new kid Specs had brought to the lodging house that morning. Even though they had heard the tale hundreds of times before (each telling growing more dramatic and making the newsboys sound like war heroes with Pulitzer as a demonic monarch), Itey, Dutchy, Snoddy, Pie, and Specs all listened in nonetheless, occasionally adding a forgotten detail here and there.  
  
At the table across from them sat Vixen, Mush, Bumlets, and Snitch, all of which were making fun of Jack's story-time. It worked our fairly well, for everyone knew the petty debate was in truth a heated argument between Jack and Vixen.  
  
"If I remember correctly," Vixen said at one point, loud enough for both tables to hear, "according to Brooklyn account, when youse went into the Woild office tah speak tah Pulitzer, ya got kicked out for bein' a street rat."  
  
Jack glared at her; this time around he had claimed to have led a riot in Pulitzer's office but she had just managed to shatter his story. "Well anyone should know that Brooklyn boys aint too good at remembering things when they's had no part in it."  
  
"Youse implyin' that they's illiterate?"  
  
"Nah, just that they tend tah think a story aint woith tellin' if it doesn't draw 'em out tah be gods."  
  
She stood to her feet and walked over to him, hips swinging in that flirtatious manner, except the offended look on her face made it seem almost deadly, as if she were a lioness about to slaughter her prey. "Yea, like youse is one tah talk, Jack. Ya got an ego bigger than New Yawk, ya know that? Too proud tah say what ya really feel."  
  
By now, the other newsies were completely lost in understanding what was passing between their leader and the girl, and so they casually dispersed and left the two alone. Naturally, this only meant seeking a table two yards away where they could still eavesdrop on the conversation.  
  
Jack remained seated and pushed his plate of food away, having lost his appetite. "Ya know what, Vixen? Ya a damn hoity-toity for thinkin' I'se even got anything tah confess tah youse tah begin with!"  
  
"Oh yea? That's the way ya gunna play it, huh?" She snatched a glass of tea from the table and threw its contents upon his face, her eyes narrowed in rage. "Fine! I'm through wid youse!"  
  
"You bitch!" Jack jumped to his feet in surprise and held his hands out as tea dripped down his face onto his shirt. "Ya friggin' insane, ya know that?" he yelled after her while she stormed away.  
  
"Yea," she replied, "but I least I aint a jackass." The door slammed and its resounding thud reverberated throughout the restaurant.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Maybe 2 more chapters left. Maybe not. ^_^ I sent in an application to Rollins College last week, please pray that I get in! AHHHHHHHHHH!!!! 


	29. Disfavorable Repetoires

DISCLAIMER: None of the characters from the movie Newsies belong to me. Sorry to have surprised you so. They actually belong to Disney. . However, the very distinguishable and agreeable Lucas 'Runner' Conlon belongs to me. *grins* 

A.N. IMPORTANTE: This is a chapter, and yet it's not. It's like…a mini-chapter per say. You see, as many of you probably already know, I can no longer make chapters of author notes and since I had a very urgent announcement to relate to you, my beloved readers, I had to scribble this chapter out as to not have my story taken off completely. Now that would truly be disheartening. *frowns* Well, in any case…here's the next mini-chapter (which will be soon removed and replaced with a full-length chapter) and following it is my GRAND ANNOUNCEMENT!!!!!!! Oh, by the way, I got accepted into Rollins College!!!! But that's *not* the grand announcement. ^_^ Well, read on, my darlings! And THANK YOU for all the reviews. Truly, I thank you. 

**_Just a Little Bet_**

****

            Angel and Blink were dallying about in Central Park closely following the events passing at Tibby's in which Vixen and Jack had completely exploded at each other with a vengeful wrath. The former couple, however, were now at peace with one another despite the past preceding their making-up, for Angel had long ago decided that perhaps Blink's constant apologizing to her were in fact genuine and truly heart-felt. Though not yet officially together, they were quite close to being so. 

            It came to pass that within an hour of their having enjoyed themselves at the fairly occupied Park that Blink happened to pass by a girl he knew quite well. His face reddening with worry, he tried to turn quickly with Angel and start for another path, but the other girl had already espied him and called out to the eye-patch wearing newsie with an enthused wave. "Blink! Heya, Blink!" 

            He turned back around to face her, though the action was executed rather miserably, and forced a smile on his face. "Hey Jewel, what's kickin'?"

            Jewel grinned at the greeting, but when she saw Blink's hand in the soft grasp of a girl whom she didn't know, the smile instantly dropped. Arching an eyebrow at the sight, she put her hands on her hips and smirked. "Oh? And who's dis? Another goil fa ya repertoire?" She then had the effrontery to reach out for Blink's free hand and yank him out of Angel's hold. "Aw, baby. What about _us? What about all the fun we'se was havin' just weeks ago? Ya aint gunna pass up all those good times, are ya?"_

            "Jewel, listen, I aint into that stuff no more. I don't wanna go from goil ta goil no more, I want a relationship…" 

            "A relationship?" She grimaced in disgust and let him go. "Ya real changed, ya know that, Blink?" Shaking her head as if she still couldn't believe the words that had come out of his mouth, she started to back away from him, no longer wanting anything to do with a guy pursuing confounded _relationships. "Look, ya goil's already left ya," she said, before turning around and going back to hustling the upper class gentlemen with her shallow words and body. _

            Blink spun around and saw that Angel was retreating to a bench beside a massive fountain, no doubt offended by Jewel's words and bold declarations. He hurried to her and sat on the bench, but when he tried to put his arms around her in apology, she clearly held up her hand and glared to him as if to say 'don't even start'. "Angel, listen, I'm sorry. I mean, I can't help people I knows from comin' up ta me, but I _can_ help fallin' into their traps again. She means nothin' ta me, Angel. Maybe once upon a time she did, but I got youse now, and ya all I want." He took her hand gently and kissed her lightly, staring into her eyes with a sincerity she couldn't deny. "Please…I wanna start over wid ya, baby…" 

            Angel didn't want to forgive him so easily, but she knew a pardon was due. However, she couldn't get Jewel's words out of her head. Another girl for his repertoire? What was that supposed to mean? No, she knew very well what it meant and didn't like it at all. But…wait. Blink was sorry, wasn't he? Why should she hold something against him that was beyond his control, that something being the random outbursts of an obviously jealous girl? Why should she hold his past against him? 

            "Blink…"

            "No, listen ta me…" He then made so unashamed a move as to drop to his knees right in front of her despite the bustling crowds of people making their way pass the couple and took both her hands in his. "Please, I'm literally beggin' ya, Angel. Please take me back. Ya the only goil I'se known who has class, ya the only goil I can imagine myself bein' wid. I'm puttin' me past behind me, baby. My eyes is only on _youse_. Please…gimme another chance…" 

            She looked at him with a saddened expression. She knew how hard it was for him to say such a thing. For that matter, she knew how hard it was for any guy to renounce his pride and intentionally trample upon it with his own feet to show the girl he loved his true feelings for her. Smiling then, she leaned over and tipped up his chin, kissed him hard on, and told him she couldn't dream of being with any other man but him. 

* * * * * * * 

            It had been three consecutive days in which Becca hadn't made an appearance at the Sheepstead stables and Charles was beginning to worry in spite of himself. True the girl had proven to be quite difficult at first, but her true disposition had broken through the facade and she'd turned out to be a chaste sweetheart; well, a would-be chaste one were it not for the malevolent intentions of her father and the men to which she'd been traded off like a discarded doll. 

            It was while he was muttering curses at the horses-only _at them, though, never to them-that he heard the door to the stables creak open on its rusty hinges. He looked up half indifferently but then dropped the pail he was currently holding when he saw it to be the very girl who'd distracted his mind the past few days. "Becca!" he explained, nearing her with a smile. It was only when he was within yard's distance of her when he saw the tears streaking her face. "Becca, what's wrong!" _

            She shook her head weakly and tried to pass farther into the stable to sit upon a haystack next to her favorite horse, Jumper, but Charles remained in her way and at last she could no nothing more than look up at him with those sweet brown eyes with a cherubic sensitivity akin to that of a child. "It's Race…it's like he's avoiding me or something. This is the second time this day I've gone to the Manhattan lodging house where he lives and just as the other times I went yesterday and the day before, he hasn't been there at all. It's as if he's staying in Brooklyn or one of the other boroughs…just so he won't have to see me. But I don't get it, Charles. We…everything was worked out just fine…"

            Charles put an arm delicately around her shoulders and led her to a crate where he motioned her to take a seat while he kneeled on the ground beside her and thought upon what she had said. "Becca, maybe 'e's just busy wid…newsboy stuff. I highly doubt 'e's avoiding ye."

            "He's not Manhattan's leader! Any newsie stuff that would have to be taken care of would be done by Jack, not Race!" She slouched on her crate of a seat and thought all the worse. Was he finally realizing her physical impurities and had fled for a more virtuous girl? Had he grown tired of her, sickened? "I thought he loved me…"

            "Becca, you're bloody daft! D'ya realize how much the lad's been pursuin' ye? I thought it all quite ridiculously truly, for 'im to be so infatuated and in love. Don't worry, lass. I'm sure wherever 'e is, ya on his mind." He rubbed her back with a smile, trying desperately to cheer the poor girl up. 

            She took notice of his efforts and figured she'd at least oblige him with a smile in gratification. But that night, as she lay in the bed of her small apartment, she wondered what could possibly be bothering Racetrack. She had to find him, to speak with him and ask him whether his unending absences were result of her past. "Oh God, please don't take him away from me…"

* * * * * * * 

            Race hurriedly made his way through the streets of Harlem, pulling his threadbare vest closer against him as the weather was dropping unusually low. He only had a few minutes to make it to the Manhattan lodging house; just a millisecond late of this time allotted and he'd be forced to sleep outside, for the lodge's doors were locked promptly at midnight. 

            "All this fa a couple a' bucks," he muttered to himself. But if he were honest to his mentality, he'd know instantly it didn't bother him in the least. For the past three days, he'd been going to various poker games across the state, visiting with newsies from different boroughs and winning-or losing, which happened often-money from heated card games. Tonight, he'd pocketed $9.17 from a total of six games…which wasn't a very good average now that he mused over it, but added up to his winnings from the previous days and it reached a nice total of just over 25 dollars. He was beaming. 

            "Becca, I hope ya say 'yes' when I finally have 'nough money ta buy the ring…" 

            He reached the lodging house just as Kloppman was about to close the door, hurried upstairs, and happily stored the money in the sock he was keeping stuffed in his pillowcase. Then, with a sigh of content, he laid down onto his bunk and easily fell asleep. 

* * * * * * * 

ANNOUNCEMENT TIME!!!! *does a back flip* First of all, I think I'll keep this chapter after all. All right, here we go!

Yours Truly, Dewey, has decided to create a brand spanking new Newsies RP yahoo group called "The Newsie Brigade". It's a community where fellow Newsie lovers can unite and RP and just overall have fun! We haven't started a storyline yet because I'm still recruiting members, but soon enough, when the member population is at a reasonable number, we'll be on our way! 

I'm currently working on a site, on the rules, and a list of orders on how exactly this all will work out. But until then, you can still join the group and introduce yourself to the others. It should be fun. ^_^ The only things I don't accept are: posts over an R rating (smut has to be labeled with a warning) and Slash. But heya, you can read a more in-depth description at the group's yahoo site. All I need you to do is leave a review with your email address so that I can send you an invitation to join. (Don't think because you're logged onto ff.net that I can easily obtain your email address, it'd be ten times easier if you could just write it in the review. ^_^ ))

Well, I hope all of you are interested! You can have as many characters as you like, and let your crazy imagination run wild. ^_^ Oh, and for you Runner fans, I will be including him in this. Hehehe. I'm sure it'll work out to be a very nice little group. So remember, leave me your email in a review if you'd like an invitation to JOIN JOIN JOIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 


	30. The Beloved Beginnings of Relationships ...

DISCLAIMER: None of the characters from the movie Newsies belong to me. Sorry to have surprised you so. They actually belong to Disney. . However, the very distinguishable and agreeable Lucas 'Runner' Conlon belongs to me. *grins* 

A.N. THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!!!!

To everyone who's been sticking to this story for such a long time, and for all the nice reviews, and for everyone who's prompted me to update, and for all the newcomers who might stumble upon this story one day. THANK YOU so much for reading this story and for supporting it with your reviews. It's been an honor to be your author, and I hope you will go on to read my other works. Thank you again! God Bless! 

**_~*Just a Little Bet*~_**

****

            For two weeks had Spot and Snap been in an absurd state of what one might've called togetherness. Uncertain, of course, because though they'd embarked on a relationship, or more so a mockery of one, they didn't quite act in the manner of a couple. Spot would spend more time with the girl who'd proven to possess an air as prideful and aggressive as his own, but at the same time he flirted with other dolls, and rarely defended her when the Brooky's had their verbal ways with her. It was as if, though he'd found a worthy match for his conceit, he refused to be tied down to a single person. Most importantly, he wouldn't give his heart to anyone. 

            Snap put up with this nonsense for a little while, for she believed it would be nothing more than a fleeting attitude defect. She knew of his reputation and his notorious ways with women, and so eventually surmised that he simply needed time to adjust to the new arrangements in his life. But as the days rolled on by and no drastic changes were becoming evident, she knew a resolution had to be reached. She wouldn't continue showing affection to one of indifference, and she wouldn't associate herself with someone who constantly denied that association.    

            And so it happened that on the 17th day of her stay in Brooklyn, she strutted through the lodging house in the manner of a goddess, fending off the insults she knew would come with her invisible honor of self-esteem. They called her every imaginable word in their vocabulary, the boys who hated her, that is. Everything from slut, whore, wench, guttersnipe, sewer rat…to even the more profane of derogatory statements. She decided she didn't need this anymore. With her two younger sisters safely finding shelter in the monastery located in upper Manhattan, she could very well flee from this hellhole and have nothing to do with it for the rest of her days. 

            Up the stairs she went, utterly ignoring the hatred the others so blatantly conveyed, storming into Spot's room and slamming the door shut behind her. She crossed her arms, then, as she merely stood there, her grey eyes ominous like the rain clouds before a massive storm. Spot had been sitting on the sill of his room's only window, peacefully gazing out toward the docks, but the girl's violent intrusion had caused him to jump to his feet startled, his heart hammering madly within him. 

            "Christ!" he nearly yelled at her, relieving a heavy sigh from his lips. "Ya scared me half ta death, ya know that?" Then, replacing his fright with a nonchalant smirk, he strode over to her, blue eyes dancing with mischief and was about to rest his hands upon her waist when she suddenly stepped back from him and continued glaring. "What'sa mattah?" he asked, more so out of having been offended than out of concern. 

            "Are you ever gunna get 'em ta stop?" She was incensed, the weight she placed on each syllable told him so. 

            "What the hell are ya talkin' bout now?" 

            She combed her fingers through her hair in aggravation and then threw her hands up in the air, pacing the room's width in quick steps as she reiterated to Spot what it was that bothered her. "Ya damned newsies is gettin' high off makin' me life miserable! Every day I walk in heah mindin' me own business and I aint gotta wait too long until some joik walks up ta me and asks me if I'd like ta give 'im a lap dance!" 

            "Well, whaddya want me ta do 'bout it, Snap. Ya the one who made the whorish reputation for yaself. What am I s'pose ta do? Stand in front of all fifty-two of 'em and tell 'em it was only an act?" They were screaming at each other now, their unrestrained anger no doubt penetrating through the walls of the room to the eager listeners below who wanted nothing more than for the couple to end their relationship. Spot was fuming; his eyes flashing from shades of grey to cyan blue, his figure rigid as he attempted to abate his rage with clenched fists.

            She gaped at him. "I can't believe ya just called me that! Youse of all people should know why I did what I did…"

            "And ya sacrificed ya self-image in the process. So why are ya bitchin' about it?"  

            "You _bastard_." She could only look at him in incredulity. How could he speak such scathing words? How could someone who had a day earlier whispered sweet-nothings into her ear now be ridiculing her with scorn? "I don't even know why I bother stayin' heah. I thought ya were different, ya know. For the slightest moment, ya had me fooled. But ya just like all the rest, Conlon. Ya just like all the rest." 

            Only then did Spot realize the graveness of their altercation. She was…_leaving_ him. He started to say something, parting his lips to let the apologetic words that would beg of her forgiveness spew from his heart, but he found he could not, for he'd never asked forgiveness of someone who he was on the verge of loving. And then he thought to simply tell her that she was right, and that he was perfectly portraying the attributes of a jackass, but that too seemed far-fetched for the leader of Brooklyn, and he inwardly bewailed his fate. She couldn't leave him!

            "Bye," she said simply. It was too much for her. She wasn't going to be a spaniel to someone who'd only abuse her, who'd only profess his love in secret for fear that a relationship would make him weak in the eyes of his followers, and yes, his peers-for those with whom he daily congregated yet held grand influence over Spot, though he'd never admit to this. Even her father was a better man than that! At least _his_ betrayal was to a private audience, and not to dozens of newsies before whom Snap was day by day humiliated by the one who claimed he liked her as he had liked no other girl. 

            Spot stepped forward, holding out a hand as if to beg her pardon, but her back was turned to him and so she didn't see this minor action. "Snap…w-wait…" This had bought him some time at least. For a brief moment, their eyes met and he held his breath as his mind considered the things he wanted to tell her. "Snap, I…I, uh…" _Say it, ya idiot!_ He inwardly screamed to himself. _It's just three stupid little words…say it!_ "I, uh…" He let his head hang in defeat. He simply couldn't. He'd waited too long. It was over. "Goodbye." 

            "Goodbye, Spot," was all she said in return, too hurt by seeing firsthand just how enslaved to his pride this 'fearless' leader of Brooklyn was. She walked out the room, gently closed the door behind him, and left Brooklyn. She would never again return to the borough. 

            When she was gone, Spot threw his slingshot across the room, yelling at the disgust of his inadequacies. She was right; she had been right all along. Ever would he be alone, just because he couldn't put three words across himself. _Three words! _So powerful…so simple…three words. He thought he would almost weep, but no, his pride wouldn't even let him do _that_. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

            Race held Jumper's reins tightly, excitement surging through him as he stood proudly before Becca, grinning devilishly at her confused expression. He was decked out in his finest attire, which for a newsie of course was nothing short of last week's ensemble, but the expression he conveyed in those precious moments, an expression of worthwhile pride, made up for whatever financial endeavors he otherwise lacked. He nervously combed his fingers through Jumper's silken mane, exhaling a sigh he'd been holding and switching his weight from one foot to the next. The horse beside him stamped one hoof onto the dirt grounds of the stable impatiently, as if Race's hesitation blazed through him as well. 

            Becca crossed her arms and arched her eyebrows in amusement as she mused over what her boyfriend could possibly be trying to pull off now. Charles had even left the stables to give the couple their privacy, and this was something he rarely did. More often than not, he was right there lounging about on his three-legged stool with a horse pick in one hand and a playful look of ridicule on his face while watching Race and the girl exchange their romantic dialogue. But today…well, why would he have left? Had Race paid him to do so? That most certainly was probable. After all, the Italian newsie had just shared with her that his frequent absences in Manhattan were due to gambling sprees across the state. 

            This, of course, upset her, for she didn't quite know why he would forsake time with her to go gallivanting with the card players of Queens and Brooklyn. For more than one reason it quite frankly made her jealous, and slightly resentful as well. It was beginning to appear to her as if Race didn't want as much from the relationship as did she. Sighing because he, for the fourth time, had refused to answer her questions over what he was hiding from her, she at last sat onto a stack of hay and frowned deeply. Her flaming orange hair was braided back into pig tails under the bowler hat she wore, her overalls soiled and torn here and there. But still, that radiance across her face which Race had saw in her when first they met. He saw it today as well, but something seemed to mar the beauty. 

            "What'sa matter, Becca?" he asked softly, matching her frown with one of his own. 

            Remaining atop the haystack, she only shrugged. Her eyes were brown orbs of deep sadness. "I don't understand you, Anthony," said she softly, implementing his real name now that they were alone. "You act like nothing's happened these past few days…which it hasn't I guess. You've been to see everyone but me, and then here you are smiling like a lovesick fool without even apologizing."

            He was taken aback by this, for it was his belief that his failure to meet with her every single day of the last week wouldn't have had so drastic an effect on their relationship. But apparently, Becca was still insecure about certain things, and he was terribly sorry for assuming she'd become strong in so little time. For the moment abandoning Jumper, he closed the distance between himself and the girl and sat on the haystack beside her. "Becca, I never meant to hoit ya. I didn't think ya'd mind. I just had ta take care of a few things before the next time we'se met."

            "What things, though?" She looked at him and winced as if it had been painful to do so. Had he been off with another girl? _No, he'd never do such a thing!_ She trusted him; every time she imagined what life would be without him, she knew she had made the right choice in trusting him. But oh, how she was scared. What if he only proved to leave her like all the rest? What if he…?

            "Becca, it's not like I'm keepin' some big secret from ya…well, in a way I am, but it's…it's not what ya think…"

            Her heart sank. He _was_ keeping a secret from her? Was this the end of it all then? Was it over? Would she be forced to retreat back into her hard shell of suspicions and doubts? Her eyes welled up with tears at the notion. She couldn't believe this was happening! Race had said that he loved her…that he loved her! Why would he hurt her like this? She didn't want to know, now that she thought about it. She rose to her feet instantly, shaking her head vehemently, and started for the stables' outlet into the Sheepshead crowds. "Please, Race, don't do this to me…I don't think I'd be able to handle it…"

            His look was one of confusion. "Becca, I thought…" He stopped for a moment; it was as if his heart had been beating madly only to suddenly be ripped from his chest and clutched to suffocation. He nearly choked on his words but managed to continue the sentence. "I thought ya felt the same way."

            The same way! Who was he kidding? She had _loved_ him feverishly! She many times convinced herself that she would even die for him had the circumstances presented themselves. Never in a million years would she feel the desire he now adamantly expressed, that of wanting to disengage from the relationship. What had she done wrong to drive him away? Had she unintentionally spoken unkind words to him…had she failed to please him as a girlfriend? A lone tear cascaded down her pale face as she looked back at him. "Race, I thought you loved me."

            "I _do_ love ya! That's why I'm doin' this in the foist place!" 

            "You're breaking up with me because you love me?"

            "Breaking…breaking up with youse?!" He was so astounded by the words he almost laughed. "Becca, what did I ever say 'bout breakin' up with ya?" He did, laugh then, and slapped a hand to his forehead at the grand misunderstanding. Now excited to all extremes, he hurried to her, gently took her hands, and led her back to sit down upon the bundle of hay she'd earlier occupied. Then he looked once over his shoulder and whistled to Jumper, the grey horse obediently sauntering up to the couple in a lazy stroll. When it was right before them, the horse then knelt down on its forelegs and carefully continued to lower itself until it was peacefully lying down upon the ground. 

            Becca smiled at Jumper, reaching out to stroke his shiny coat, but then something else caught her eye, and her intake of breath was indeed a sharp one as she gasped in realization. Onto Jumper's saddle was tied a small satin heart-shaped pillow lined with the finest lace and velvety fabric. And upon this pillow was a silver wedding band, a single circular diamond embedded onto its surface. Race took the ring delicately between his index finger and thumb, and much like Jumper, he knelt before Becca and beamed with anticipation. 

            "Becca, I know ya've been through a lot. I know it's probably hard fa youse ta trust anyone after havin' been with so many people who only proved ta let ya down. But, I love ya…and this feelin' inside me won't let me pass up the chance to ask ya ta spend our lives together. I aint got no more than two bits in me pocket, and the only clothes I own are the ones on me back or in the trunk under me bed, but what can I offer ya, Becca, is _real_ love that I promise ya will last forever." He held the ring out to her and smiled with such warmth. "Will ya give me the privilege of bein' married ta one of the few angels that walk the earth?" 

            She was so overwhelmed that if she didn't laugh, she would definitely cry in its stead. She threw her arms around his neck, nearly tackling him down. "Of course I'll marry you, Anthony Higgins. I couldn't imagine myself with any other man." And then she kissed him, a kiss so innocent yet filled with depth, that they both were lost in the ecstasy of the moment. 

~*~*~*~*~

            Runner Conlon waited patiently at the café across from the prep school for classes to be dismissed for the day. He paced before the edifice while nonchalantly pressing out the wrinkles in his suit, a lazy grin across his face as he thought upon the reasons why he wasn't in school, his heart light with better times as he thought upon the one for whom he waited. "Wait 'til Spot hears about this one," he laughed to himself, throwing a stone into the air and then catching it with both hands. He repeated this process six or seven times over until at last he saw the majority of the student body flooding through the richly-decorated doors of the school, some heading for the dormitories, others for the recreation grounds, and even a lesser few pass the gates of their wonderfully secured little world. 

            Among those lesser few walked Mallory, her soft ringlets bouncing with each step that took her closer to Runner. When they were only a foot or so apart, he took her into his arms wholeheartedly and kissed her longingly right there, oblivious to the gossipers and business-minders who no doubt were spectating the moment between the valedictorian of next year's graduating class, and the newest member to the prep school community. 

            Mallory pulled away moments later, her face flushed with the passionate 'hello' as her cheeks turned to a deep shade of red. "Lucas," she said softly, smacking his arm playfully, "you'll make the others talk…" She glanced back at these 'others' nervously and bit her bottom lip upon seeing two dozen students watch on from behind the tall gates of the school's border, some gasping, others pointing and shaking their heads in scorn, others-for the most part, the boys-laughing and giving thumbs-up signs to their friend. 

            Runner rolled his eyes and laughed at this. He took the girl's hand in his own and tugged on her arm, wanting to go away from the place as to not exacerbate matters. "Let them talk," he whispered into her ear as they began to walk through upper Manhattan. "So long as I have you with me now, I couldn't care less."

            "You should care, Lucas," she replied. "You have an image to uphold. You wouldn't want to tarnish it."

            "An image!" He downright laughed at this, emerald eyes sparkling with merriment. "If I worried about my image as zealously as do some people, I'd turn into my cousin. And we both know for a fact there isn't room enough in New York for two egocentric brats." The words weren't meant to belittle Spot, for those within both the newsie and private school community knew how much Runner loved his cousin. As was usual, he was merely teasing. 

            Mallory laughed at this as well, holding Runner's hand more tightly within her own. "I wonder how you can manage to be so carefree. You know, there's been talk about you among the different grade levels. Rumor has it that next year you might not be enrolled in honor classes because of your…lethargic attitude…"

            He only smirked back. "I'm afraid it might be even worse than that." He offered no further explanation, choosing rather to change the topic of conversation to other things. It'd been months since the horrific events following Valentine's Day, in which Brooklyn's conflict with the enemy borough had resulted in Spot's brawl with Flame, and Runner's being hospitalized by cause of a coma. Though the emotional wounds would revisit both Conlon's in rare occasions, those lacerations of the flesh had finally healed, bruises and cuts no more, lest a minor scar graced them. 

            As they traversed the length of the Brooklyn Bridge together nearly an hour later still hand in hand, Runner stole a kiss from Mallory while she had been in the middle of telling him something and grinned at her surprised look. He loved her so much it shocked him. He'd been so sure that she would choose Spot, Jack, or Race…or none of them at all! He'd been so sure that he would never end up with her, but apparently this chapter in his story had turned out right for once. Perhaps the all-out war with the enemy borough had been a blessing in disguise, for it had caused Spot and Runner to become closer as cousins, and had let the young Conlon and Mallory mature in their relationship together. 

            "So what exactly are we doing here anyway?" 

            He snapped out of his thoughts and looked at Mallory, not even aware that they were in Brooklyn now, traversing the docks as Brooky's all about them dived into the cool waters or lounged about on crates offering greetings to their leader's relative. Runner nodded at them in return and continued onward, squeezing the girl's hand in assurance, should the borough bring unto her bad memories. "Just need to tell Spot something," he said simply. 

            Spot was suavely reclined onto a pier, a blade of grass between his lips as he surveyed his newsies, every now and again yelling at the little ones to stay away from the edges of the docks lest they fall into the water or interceding a fight between the older troublemakers. He leaned some of his weight onto that gold-tipped black cane he was always carrying around, looking the part of a lord overseeing his manor. When he saw his cousin and Mallory, a smirk adorned his lips and he called out to them while they were yet nearing him. "Heya mistah and miss Lucas," he said with a light laugh, spitting into his palm and then holding it out to shake hands with Runner. 

            Runner shook his head good-naturedly at the greeting and spit into his own palm as well before shaking with Spot. "So Spotty, how's Brooklyn treatin' ya these days?" he asked in the typical accent. 

            "Like a king of coise, how else would it treat me?" His grin was lazy as he shifted his weight against the pier. He took an envelope that his younger cousin handed to him, then, and began to open it, wondering what words the letter inside could possibly contain. Had dear Lucas passed another confounded examination? Or were these the rankings for this year's junior class? Spot rolled his eyes as he unfolded the letter, but in reality, he was glad he was the one Runner shared all this with. 

            "Where's Snap?"

            Spot's eyes darkened for a moment. "Oh, things didn't woik out, so she left." 

            "Oh." The younger waited for more explanation, but when he saw Spot start to read the letter then, he knew it'd been a lost cause. And to think, he honestly had believed Spot and Snap to be a perfect couple. He wondered upon what exactly had gone wrong, but knew Spot would tell him when he was ready. As for now, he kept his mouth shut and let his cousin read on, waiting eagerly for the elder's reaction. He didn't have to wait too long. 

            Spot's jaw dropped open as his eyes skimmed over the sentences, his disbelief most obvious. "Ya own father is expellin' ya from the school?" 

            "What!" This definitely was news to Mallory. She let go of Runner's hand and joined Spot's side, to see the evidence of this nonsense for herself. She, too, expressed her incredulity…though it more so bordered fear and sadness. What about his future? What about college and…? She looked up at him, treating the news as if he'd been drafted for a war. "I don't understand, Lucas…" Spot followed suit, expecting the boy to have a damn good reason for having received a letter of such dire consequences. 

            Runner took a deep sigh and then spilled out his response, switching out of the Brooklyn dialect to better voice his feelings. "It's because I stood up to him. It's because I wouldn't allow him to continue dictating my life as if I was his little puppet, to do his bidding as he pleased. I love my father dearly, and I don't deny all the things he's done for me, but I won't live a life that's been pre-planned by him, and I won't withstand his heartbreaks when I've gone against what he wished. I wish I could've pleased him, I wish I could've honored him in every imaginable way…but it grew increasingly hard. 

            "And what's worst, I never even felt the love of a father! He would extend aid to everyone in the church, would be there whenever they needed him. But when his own _son_ wanted to have a relationship, whether it was simply going out to fish or taking a stroll through Central Park…he denied me those simple pleasures." His eyes became distant as he looked out toward the horizon and sighed yet again. "I've said it many times, and I even told him myself…you, Andrew, were the closest thing to a father I ever felt. You disciplined me when I got out of line, you gave me advice when I was lost, you taught me and guided me and took me in…"

            Rather bashfully, he looked down to his feet then and grinned. He wasn't quite sure whether he'd ever openly shared these things with Spot, but it was great to finally shove the burden off him. He wished he could've felt the same way whenever speaking with his very father, but no, his father only served to place all the more burdens upon him! "In any case, I stood up to him like you told me to and…as you can see, he didn't care too much for it. I got this letter through the board of advisors…he, of course, blandished them with lies as headmaster to get them to dismiss me from the school. I'm sure they couldn't understand why a father would do this to his own son; it obviously took a lot of convincing on his behalf. Aside from that, I also received a personal note from him in which he claimed he was officially disowning me. He couldn't even tell me _that_ face to face." 

            Spot was terribly struck by the news. For someone like Runner to know the hurts of disownment…he shook his head angrily and tore the letter to shreds, casting the fragments of paper into the water below with a rigid throw. He was disappointed, and ashamed for Runner. With a yell, he slammed a fist into the wooden structure of the pier, and then rested his forehead onto its top, closing his eyes tight in hopes that perhaps when he reopened them, this would prove to be no more than a dream. "I'm sorry, Lucas," he said, so softly that it seemed to be born of the wind. 

            "Don't be sorry. Don't you get it, Spot? I _wanted_ this…for the longest time. Ever since you ran away from us and became this legend of a newsie, I wanted to follow in your footsteps and do the same!"

            "Ya an idiot for wanting a life like this!" Spot exclaimed, narrowing his eyes as he spun around and faced the younger again. "D'ya think this a life ta enjoy, Runnah? D'ya think it's fun ta live in a shack with a bunch of other penniless street rats who'll probably all die before they even reach thirty-five years? D'ya think I wake up every day and put a smile on me face 'cause I'm the prince of orphans, criminals, and the unwanted?"

            Runner's eyes grew sad. "You're the only family I have, Spot…"

            He sighed heavily at this, combing his fingers through his hair to relieve tension he felt like releasing onto one of his newsies. He would've rather Runner suffer under his father for just one more year until college than to have the boy subject himself to the life of a tumbleweed! In a few minutes, he gathered his bearings and controlled himself. "What about ya career, Lucas? What about ya wantin' ta be a doctor?"

            "I still have a friend in Father Romanik. I'm sure he wouldn't mind funding my tuition for college. As for graduating, I can always enroll in a public school. He would help me with the paper work and all. Spot, all I'm asking for is a place to stay…and a family I can call my own. I'm not throwing away my future, don't worry about it."

            "Foist of all, let's get one thing straight," the elder replied, stepping up to his cousin and glaring down at him. "Now that ya officially don't have no father, I'm gunna be more harder on youse than I've ever been. Secondly, since ya permanently livin' under me roof, I expect ya ta obey all me rules. None a' this carefree stuff just cause youse a Conlon. And lastly, ya bettah wipe that damn grin off ya face cause ya gunna wish ya'd stayed with ya father aftah ya realize just how tough a dad I can be." He wore his trademark smirk, his eyes glinting with playfulness. 

            "Great!" exclaimed the younger, wrapping his arms around Mallory and pulling her to him in an accomplished hug. "I can't wait to be a Brooky again!" Mallory couldn't quite see the jollity in it yet, but so long as Lucas was happy, so was she. She kissed him softly on the lips and laughed with delight when Spot dragged him away for a hug of his own. 

~*~*~*~*~

**Epilogue**

            Life continued on in Brooklyn with a steady normalcy. Of course, there were the occasional bouts of mischief on Runner's behalf, but these were dealt with accordingly. As Runner had suspected, Father Romanik hadn't a single problem with funding the boy's university studies. With the man's help, Runner had been admitted into one of the finest universities in the state, and quite a surprise it had been when a copy of this prized acceptance letter had been mailed to the boys' parents. He wished fervently that he could've seen the looks on their faces, especially on that of his father, but he would leave his mind to wishful thinking. 

            Mallory remained living with her father-who never again suffered from his severe bronchitis attacks-and went on to graduate from the prep school at St. John the Divine's. After graduation, she immediately pursued her studies in the field of nursing, attending a small college just minutes away from home. A young adult's life became quite hectic at times, but she and Lucas would yet make time to see each other. On the day that would mark their fourth year together in a relationship, Runner proposed to her in Central Park under the veiling of the star-dotted heavens. She happily accepted the proposal. 

            Spot Conlon would serve as Brooklyn's respected and notorious leader until the age of twenty, when he would retire from the childish life of a newsie and go on to find more mature work in the city. He didn't have several steady relationships with women, and there came a point in his life when he was so filled with angst and a foreboding possibility of being alone for all time that he thought he was better off simply killing himself in the dark apartment wherein he resided. But by God's providence, he happened to cross paths with a young woman named Dewey one afternoon on his way home from work, and when the two accidentally stumbled into each other and later on continued their apologies-turned-conversation in a nearby restaurant, sparks instantly flew between them. Spot had finally found the person for whom he could renounce his pride. 

            Snap, on the other hand, reunited with her younger sisters at the monastery to which she'd recommended them. She lived with them until reaching her twenty-first year, when she had made an executive decision to press charges against her father for his sexual abuse and domestic violence. When the authorities visited the dilapidated apartment that had once been Snap's home to seize the man, all were shocked to see only a corpse lying on the carpet of the living room; this deranged would-be father had downed every last drop of alcohol until death had taken him. The sisters, of course, were grief-stricken, but they went on to build a new future and in time, put the past behind them. 

            Race and Becca were married months after the Italian's proposal to the simple stable girl. It wouldn't be an elaborate matrimony with catered dinners, luxurious receptions, or high-class attire. Quite frankly, the wedding was evidence for their low status on their social scale, but one thing with which it _was_ rich was the attendance of dozens of friends who wished them well as they embarked on a new life. It was a magical day, and the happiest moment in the couple's life up to date. 

            In Manhattan, it would be six months after Vixen's initial arrival in Manhattan before she and Jack would resolve their differences and begin starting the relationship they had wanted all along. Neither was quite sure what had prompted them to argue in the first place, nor were they sure what it had been that prompted them to discontinue their bickering. But once the pretenses had ended and the love had begun, the newsies in Manhattan were most unfortunate in having to constantly deal with the schmaltzy behaviour of their love-struck leader. They had to admit, though, it did make for happier days in their borough. 

            As Blink had promised, he became a more devoted and reliable boyfriend to Angel. As is natural in any relationship, they had their quirks every now and again, but their relationship only grew stronger as a result. Angel continued her nursing internship at the hospital, meeting Mallory at one point during the career-as they both shared a desire to be licensed as nurses, and Blink went on to find work at a successful factory. The couple was engaged a year and a half following Race's wedding to Becca. 

            Through losses and gains, through heartbreaks and reconciliation's, through deep-seated hate and love, the young adults of this tale learned much about the realities and drudgeries of life. They learned of deception and the sting of lies, about the evils of bloated pride and the cold slap of insecurity, about the need for friends and family, and the common search for acceptance. But above all things, they learned of love…of it's attacks, but also its joys…so long as this love was allowed to flourish into something magical. 

@--} ---- the end ---- {--@

"Love is patient and kind; love is not jealous or boastful; it is not arrogant or rude. Love does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrong, but rejoices in the right. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things."

1 Corinthians 13:4-7__

****


End file.
